Heieienej

by Kahlil Johnson

Aka lei

22. T4

2.D

-- Cpl. Otto Richter Blitz --

"You can use Miss Degurechaff's name, Otto. We already know it."

I eyed the gendarme suspiciously. Lieutenant Wilfong -- she'd introduced herself as a lieutenant, at least, though she wasn't wearing any insignia that I could see -- looked back impassively. And Robin had claimed the PRT wasn't associated with the American military despite employing so many mages. It was becoming more and more clear to me something wasn't right here.

"With respect, Ma'am, that doesn't change my orders."

"We appreciate your dutifulness," the other one -- Gardner, no rank -- said. "But you're not a soldier anymore. You're free of that now."

Of that, he said. Because I wasn't actually free, just free of the military. Of what was I not free? I scowled at him.

"I'm no deserter."

"No one said you were," Lieutenant Wilfong reassured. "You didn't choose to leave your post. But you can hardly be a member of a military that doesn't exist on this world."

That line of reasoning had seemed a lot more convincing yesterday. Earlier today? I hadn't gotten a chance to check the time when this pair dragged me out of bed. I'd actually expected something like this earlier, but they'd seemed to have had other priorities.

"Doesn't it? I'm here, after all."

"That's not what you said in your M/S interview," Gardner noted. "What's changed, I wonder?"

"I was confused about the situation. My training didn't cover this scenario."

Sure, that recording didn't sound good, but refusing orders now would look much worse. They couldn't blackmail me into doing the latter so they wouldn't release the former.

"Conscripting minors is a heinous violation of human rights, Miss Degurechaff's no less than yours. Why insist on something you never wanted in the first place?" Wilfong asked.

I stared at her. They sure hadn't wasted any time in conscripting me. But what could you even say in the face of such shamelessness?

"It doesn't matter what I want or wanted. I have a duty and I'll fulfill it. And Argent wasn't conscripted."

As I'd hoped, they jumped on the last part. Public knowledge, nothing confidential.

"She volunteered? Did she tell you why?" Gardner asked.

I blinked.

"Do you imagine the Argent Silver confides in me? She does not."

"Come on," he wheedled. "You recognized her in costume. You must know her pretty well."

"How many hundred thirty centimeter lieutenant colonels do you think there are? And I recognized her magic."

"She recognized you, too." Wilfong broke in. "Immediately. And your costume is pretty concealing. Did she... Excuse me, recognize your magic?"

"I wasn't using any." I shrugged at their looks. "Honest, we've only spoken a couple times. You can't judge Argent by normal standards."

"Then how do you know she wasn't conscripted?" Gardner asked almost before I finished.

"She's too young. Conscription age for mages was fifteen before the war, fourteen now."

"So young, even before the war?" he asked doubtfully.

Did he think I was lying about a matter of national policy? Though, uh, I suppose there weren't too many other people he could ask.

"Magical combat is very physically demanding and very deadly. One in five or six combat capable mages are between fifteen and seventeen. Every other major power does the same thing, you know. Hell, the Francois conscript illiterate Malgerian farmers at fourteen; it's a wonder they can fly at all."

"Then why not twelve?" he asked, disgusted. "Wouldn't that get you another twenty percent?"

"Magic demands a certain level of mental discipline. Fourteen is pushing it, honestly."

They glanced at each other, taken aback.

"Another rule to which Argent is the exception, I take it?" Wilfong asked.

I frowned as I nodded. That clearly wasn't what had tripped them up.

"Maybe you're not best friends," Gardner redirected, "but you've heard things, clearly."

I didn't like where this was going, but he hadn't actually asked a question yet. They both stared at me for a couple moments before it became clear I wasn't going to speak up. Wilfong started shuffling through her papers.

"What can you tell us about..." She tapped the paper. "Arene?"

I shrugged, a puzzled look on my face.

"Sounds Francois?"

Wilfong shot me a disappointed look. Gardner sighed and spoke up.

"Kid, she's not here."

I shrugged. She's not supposed to be in this universe, excuse me if a kilometer or two doesn't feel like enough. And did they think I didn't realize they were recording this conversation?

"We've already heard from Indomitable and Valiant," Wilfong said, dispensing with the pretense this hadn't been the whole focus of the interrogation. "Do you want to provide the Imperial side of the story or leave us with their version of events?"

I scowled.

"What do they know about the Rhine? They weren't there."

They stared.

Oh. I, uh, might have just admitted to knowing about Arene after all. Though truthfully, I don't know much. Just rumors, really, and not the sort it would be wise to share.

"I'm confident all Imperial forces acted in accordance with international law," I said stiffly, then affirmatively closed my mouth.

They didn't seem too put off by my refusal.

"We will protect you from her," Wilfong said. "The Wards program has handled many similar cases."

"Of course, witness protection is reserved for witnesses," Gardner clarified. "You need to cooperate."

I looked between them in bafflement. Was that supposed to be a joke? No, apparently not. Were they really that dumb or did they just think I was?

"Why would I need protection from an Imperial war hero?" I asked coldly.

"Interesting choice of words," Gardner mused. "What if we told you she wasn't the patriot she pretends to be?"

... What a bizarre fabrication. Even if I believed it, what would it change?

"I'd call you a liar. A very bad one."

"There are ways to tell, you know," he said. "People who can read emotions, intentions, histories..."

"I said you were lying, not mistaken." They didn't look like they were about to give up... whatever this was. "You want to hear rumors about the Argent Silver? Fine. I heard she was terribly burned in a research accident. Nearly lost a hand. Of course the researchers were horrified and outraged and demanded the program be shut down. And little ten-year-old Argent, only half healed, said she had another hand and called the lot of them cowards and traitors for impeding the war effort. That's who you're telling me is a fake patriot."

Wilfong had dropped her face into her hands and Gardner had a sour expression.

"We've heard that one, actually," he said.

"Then why'd you think I'd believe that nonsense?" I shook my head, then had a thought. "Wait, where did you hear that?"

He sighed.

"Forget about it... Look, kid, this isn't getting us anywhere. Are you going to cooperate or not?"

I hesitated. Could they protect me from Rusted Silver? Obviously not. But would she protect me from them? She certainly could, but she wasn't here. And I, dragged off in my night clothes, didn't have my orb. I had no way to contact her and I had no way to defend myself. Well, maybe I could manage enough reinforcement to beat these two hand-to-hand... But without letting either draw the futuristic pistols on their belts or alert the rest of the base? Not likely.

But they didn't know that, right? We'd all agreed to keep the secret of computation orbs from them. For all they knew they were threatening a fully capable combat mage who could kill them a dozen different ways without moving a muscle. If they were planning to have me tortured or executed for refusing them, they'd have brought their own mages. Of course, they could just go get their own mages if I really pissed them off.

"I will cooperate to the extent my duty permits," I answered carefully.

Gardner snorted but Wilfong spoke before he could.

"And if we made you choose, I take it we wouldn't like your choice?"

I remained silent. She sighed.

"Fine. We just want the information we need to help Argent like we helped you, but I can see you're not going to accept that today."

Probably not tomorrow, either. Seriously, it was starting to worry me just how poorly they were handling this. Was it some sort of setup?

"Let's talk about something else," Gardner said. "Why don't you show us some magic?"

Uh...

"I'm not some dog to do tricks on command."

"No, you're a Ward," he said. "You are expected to do tricks on command, though."

"Public relations are one of your primary responsibilities," Wilfong informed. "Showing off your powers is a big part of that. Entertaining children, normalizing non-violent power use, inspiring new parahumans to join, that sort of thing."

"... I don't see any children here."

"Come on, just do it and we can be done," Gardner said. "I know I want to get back to bed." He frowned as though struck by a sudden thought. "You do have powers, right? If you've been lying about that, we'll have to have a very different conversation. The director's not going to be in a good mood if we have to wake her up."

Fuck. Well, I should be able to manage something...

After a few seconds I waved a hand grandly and produced a bright flash of light. The hard part of making illusions is realism, not brightness. But after blinking the light out of her eyes, Wilfong shook her head.

"What, is that all you've got? Not much of a showman, are you?"

"The children will eat you alive if you can't do better than that," Gardner advised.

I slowly narrowed my eyes, trying to concentrate.

"Fine, I said and... fumbled the spell.

I frantically struggled to keep anything from showing on my face as I grabbed the manna and... there.

I made an even grander gesture and Wilfong's stack of notes burst into flames.

That got a reaction. There was shouting and flailing and clattering chairs and by the time they'd stamped the fire out I was at least confident they weren't going to ask for any more magic tricks I may or may not be able to perform.

They didn't look too happy with me, though.

"We ask for showmanship and you go straight for arson?" Wilfong demanded. "What's wrong with you?"

"How--" Gardner was cut off by the door slamming open, framing Miss Militia.

She took in the situation at a glance while we waited like guilty children.

"What exactly is going on here?"

Wilfong and Gardner shared a look.

"We were discussing Blitz's fitness plan," Wilfong said. "I asked for a demonstration of his power and it... got out of hand."

Wait, what?

"At one thirty in the morning?" Miss Militia asked dryly.

"The director--"

"Director Piggot asked you to wake up a Ward in the middle of the night to... discuss his fitness plan? I find that very surprising, and I'm sure Mrs. Rodriguez will too."

Gardner shot the mage a venomous sneer while Wilfong stared back at her impassively.

"The director didn't specify a time frame," she finally admitted.

"I see. We will be discussing this with both the director and Mrs. Rodriguez in the morning. For now, clean up this mess and I'll get Otto back to bed."

She put a hand on my shoulder and gently guided me out of the room. Once we were out of earshot, my confusion got the better of me.

"Miss, what's going on? What fitness plan?"

She gave me a considering look.

"I take it that's not what they wanted to discuss?"

I shook my head.

"I thought so. If they'd interrogated you formally, you'd be legally entitled to an advocate. The Youth Guard would have had to have been informed. They'd have needed to keep a recording that would have been subject to independent audit. But Wilfong and Gardner are volunteer personal trainers for the Wards, not interrogators. That Director Piggot... Well, don't you worry about that, I'll take care of it. Though without firm evidence... I'll do what I can. If anything like this happens again, you ask for me and Elena Rodriguez, the Brockton Youth Guard rep. And don't say another word until they've gotten us."

I thought about that.

"Oh. Well, that's a relief."

She arched an eyebrow.

"A relief?"

"They didn't do a very good job."

She startled herself with a chuckle but I wasn't done.

"I was worried you weren't taking Argent seriously."

Her humor instantly drained away.

"Oh?" she asked carefully. "What makes you say that?"

I took ten long seconds to consider my response.

"Whatever else she might be, there's no question Argent is the"-- deadliest --"greatest combat mage alive. To ever live, maybe. I've seen her do incredible things on the battlefield, impossible things. The whole African Front might have been lost if not for her. I doubt Indomitable and Valiant would tell you any different." And they'd probably be willing to tell her the things I didn't dare voice, too. "Just... It's better to be her friend than her enemy. Much better."

She nodded, finally.

"That was already my preference. Let's get you to bed."

But a few seconds after I entered my quarters I burst right back out, catching Miss Militia at the hallway door.

"I've been robbed!"

Fifteen minutes later Miss Militia and I sat across from a disheveled Deputy Director Renick.

"--rules concerning unapproved and potentially dangerous Tinker tech."

"What do you mean, 'Tinker tech?'" I tried.

But apparently playing dumb just wasn't working for me today. Renick shot me a cool look and Miss Militia looked vaguely disappointed.

"I don't appreciate being lied to, Mr. Richter. Indomitable and Valiant have already filled us in."

I scowled. Traitors, but what can you expect?

"And did you take their orbs?"

He shrugged.

"They're adults. They're entitled to waive their right to equipment that has been tested and proven safe. You are not."

I somehow doubted that was the real reason.

"It's not having it that's dangerous! I'd have died a hundred times without it!"

"And you won't be put in that situation again," Miss Militia said.

Renick nodded.

"Fortunately, we're not planning on sending you into battle," he said. "Frankly, even if it were shown to be safe to use, we couldn't countenance a minor wielding a deadly weapon."

This couldn't be happening. Even Miss Militia didn't look sympathetic. Actually...

"Weren't you a Ward, Miss?"

She shrugged.

"Unfortunately my weapon can't be taken from me."

She didn't sound like she thought that was especially unfortunate.

"... Well, it's my property. Even if I can't use it, you have no right to steal it."

Once I had it, of course, they might have some difficulty preventing me from using it.

Renick frowned.

"We do have the right to confiscate dangerous Tinker tech, actually. There's an appeals process that... Well, I don't think that's relevant. Is it your property? I understand they're extraordinarily expensive to build. Surely it's the property of your government?"

Well... yes.

"Who entrusted it to me," I tried. "I'm responsible for it, and that's a responsibility they take very seriously. I could be executed for allowing it to fall into the hands of a foreign power."

He blinked, taken aback.

"... Well, we certainly won't permit that. If and when we make contact with your world, we'll work something out."

"In the worst case, I promise you'll be allowed to stay here," Miss Militia said, steel in her voice.

I immediately shook my head.

"No, that's not good enough... I quit. If you're going to steal my orb, working with you is treason."

Renick's expression hardened.

"I'm afraid you don't have that option. You're under investigation for several murders and the terms..."

-- PRT Sgt. Patrick Stockton --

"Good morning, Sergeant. What can I do for you?"

Militia's tone was polite, but she didn't look up from the tome she was flipping through. Huh. You don't often catch her with reference material.

"Brushing up? Thought you didn't need to do that."

"I was careless the first time through this one. Some sections are out of focus in my memory." Her tone cooled a little. "Is there something you wanted? If you're just here to chat, I'm a little busy."

"I'm trying to get access to some records. I was hoping you could give me permission."

She did pause then, giving my face plate a searching stare.

"Records you'd need my permission to access? Regarding what, exactly?"

"The Case 91 interviews, Ma'am." She wasn't technically in my chain of command, but politeness never hurt. "The new ones. Any attendant analysis. The dossier on Argent."

The book snapped shut, letting me catch the title: 'Standards of judicial practice, care and protection proceedings.' Not that that gave me any hints about its contents. I had her full attention, now. The knife at her belt blurred into a pistol.

"Atlanta eight-one-four. Confirm."

"Columbus three-six-three."

"Take off your helmet."

I did.

"Your scar's on the right side... What are you playing at, Stockton? If this about Feld--"

"No Ma'am," I blurted. "I'm not looking for revenge. I just... need to understand."

Her expression softened a little.

"She's not Hailey, you know. Earth 91 is eighty years behind and all the alternates we've found are from that period."

"I realize that."

She thought for a couple moments.

"Both Sarah's paternal grandparents immigrated from Austria."

"There's a point where that crosses over from endearing to creepy, you know."

She chuckled.

"So I've been told, though not in the last three years, five months and eleven days."

"Where did you even... Hailey's ninth birthday party?"

She nodded.

"You were at the grill when the subject came up."

"I don't think they're related. It's not about that. Just... she's not Hailey, but she could have been, right? What does that to a kid?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, pained.

"Are you sure you want to ask that question? You're not going to like the answer."

"I don't expect to, Ma'am."

She drummed her fingers on the book, thinking.

"There's a lot of attention on those records right now and there's going to be a lot more. Irregularities in the access logs will be noticed."

"I'm a pilot. Engaging fliers is in my job description. I need to know what I'd be getting into, right?"

She shook her head.

"Sure, you'll get the tactical brief along with everyone else -- though I'll tell you right you'll never get approval to engage them -- but that's not what you're looking for. Maybe when we get our transfers you can watch over a shoulder." She hesitated. "For now... Your shift has been over for twenty minutes and I doubt you want to sleep on base and leave your family alone. Want a ride home on my bike? We can... talk it over."

Something she wasn't willing to say here? Offering to let me watch over someone's shoulder was already against regs.

"I'd appreciate that, Ma'am."

-- Amy Dallon Panacea --

"Huh."

...

"Huh?" Vicky finally asked, dragging herself away from Dean. He swayed dangerously without the support.

"Well, he's definitely not from around here. The gut fauna are all wrong and he's got a cold I've never seen before. And--"

"That's confirmation of extra-dimensional disease?" the PRT man barked.

Given the business casual outfit and the clipboard, I'd assumed he was an analyst or something. His attitude was giving me doubts. Asshole.

"Hey, it's a cold. It wasn't dangerous before I cured it."

Well, I might have sequestered a few virions away in bacterial vacuoles for later examination. There are hundreds of viruses that present as a cold, but I've been at this long enough I don't see a new one every day, let alone something so far divorced from the usual suspects.

"I think we'd like independent confirmation on that," he said.

"From whom, exactly? Who do you think is more qualified than Panacea?" Vicky asked, scowling.

Hearing her get angry on my behalf sent a little thrill through me, though I knew it didn't mean much. She didn't need much of an excuse to get angry these days.

"It's gone now, anyway," I lied. "If I find anything potentially dangerous on the others, do you want me to... leave it there? Maybe help it spread to a couple more people, so you have backup samples?"

He squirmed a bit, and rightfully so. If they were taking this seriously, why was I talking to a glorified cop and not a doctor? Well, maybe they were busy. Of course, I had been busy.

"Anyway, I wasn't finished. There are signs of parahuman healing -- broken leg, shrapnel to the shoulder -- but I don't recognize the healer. Not that I know everyone, but it's not a large community."

It was a bit interesting, actually. Very crude by my standards, of course -- I can't tell when I've healed someone before, unless I deliberately leave a mark -- but that was what made it interesting. Most parahuman healing either sped up natural healing processes or employed esoteric bullshit like temporal reversion or symmetricalization. This, on the other hand, was clearly genuine biokinesis applied with a good but imperfect grasp on anatomy. Not a lot of powers required the user to actually know things.

I was about to deliver my final prognosis so we could move on -- really, this guy was fine and I was ignoring a hell of a lot of people who weren't -- but the PRT man interrupted again.

"Is that effect capable of creating bioengineered plagues or self-replicating monsters?"

I paused. That was a dangerous question. I'd just said he'd received healing and they jumped straight to Bonesaw and Nilbog? It was paranoia in this case. If they needed to study anatomy, their power wouldn't just tell them how to make a plague. And I couldn't see any genetic changes at all, despite a moderate predisposition towards heart disease. But how could I explain that without drawing attention to the fact I could do the things this healer couldn't?

"Definitely not. Why are you worried about some random healer in another dimension, anyway? No xenomorph eggs incubating in his chest, I promise."

"The facehuggers come out of the eggs, not the chestbursters. They're, I don't know, xenomorph fetuses," he said.

I stared at him. So did Vicky and even Dean. Maybe he was an analyst after all?

He cleared his throat after a moment.

"You're not authorized to--"

"They all have the same powers, right?" Vicky interrupted as though she'd figured that out herself with no help from Dean at all. "This is about Argent, not whoever healed him."

The guy started quietly freaking out. Really? You were just fine when we were talking about bioengineered plagues and xenomorph eggs-- sorry, fetuses. I kind of wanted to give him shit about it for wasting my time, but he'd clearly been told to keep his mouth shut. Like Dean, who looked away, and the PRT man, who placidly checked his clipboard.

"Anything unusual about the Corona Pollentia?"

Huh, it hadn't occurred to me to check--

"You're not a cape," I blurted.

He raised his eyebrows and abruptly rose a few inches into the air. Without a Gemma. Even if I'd somehow missed it before, active power use should light it up like a Tesla coil. And something was certainly happening in his brain, it just... wasn't a parahuman power.

The PRT man coughed.

"No Corona Pollentia, then?"

"What? No, he's got a Corona. That doesn't mean anything on its own, though, lots of people never trigger. Including this guy, apparently. No Gemma, no powers."

Vicky deliberately looked down at where his feet were conspicuously not touching the floor.

"Isn't it hard to tell the difference sometimes?" she asked.

I waved my free hand dismissively.

"Sure, on an fMRI or CT scan. Not for me."

"... Aren't there Case 53s without Gemmas?"

"Just the ones without identifiable brains."

She looked thoughtful for a couple moments.

"Very odd. And yet,"-- she turned to the PRT man. --"Hale's first guess was that he wouldn't have a Corona at all. Why?"

The PRT man -- Hale, apparently -- didn't even look up from his scribbling. Vicky's eyes narrowed and she rose a few inches herself, trying to get a better angle on the clipboard. He held it against his chest and met her eyes with a touch of visible irritation.

"Miss Dallon, your invitation to the secure area is contingent on appropriate behavior."

I could see the angry retort forming on her lips, but I was faster.

"If she goes, I go."

She shot me a grateful smile that was... well, equal and opposite to Hale's brief glare. What an incredibly easy choice.

"Look," Vicky said, instantly transitioning to wheedling. "I'm sure Amy could give you better information if she knew what you're thinking. And shouldn't you be sharing this stuff, anyway? I understand there are details you want kept from the public, but fellow heroes? We need to know what we're getting into."

"Those are good points," he acknowledged easily. "But it's not up to me. You should bring your concerns up with the director."

Damn, that was pretty smooth. If I didn't know Piggot I might have really thought he was trying to be helpful. Spiteful bastard.

Vicky reached the same conclusion, of course. Her fists clenched and her aura slipped a little.

"That's everything we wanted to check, right?" Dean interrupted the brewing confrontation. "Hale, why don't you get Blitz?"

Hale glanced between the three of us before deciding he didn't have to care that Dean obviously intended to fill us in.

"Any final notes, Panacea?"

I shrugged.

"Prolonged stress, poor diet, sleep deprivation. So he'll feel right at home, I guess."

Hale guided the new guy off towards the private rooms.

"Blitz has been a bit... uncooperative this morning," Dean said. "We should have a few minutes."

"So, what's--"

The sound of the door opening seemed to belie Dean's words, but it was just Vista. No fancy alarm in the PRT HQ; people who weren't cleared to know cape identities were supposed to knock and hope someone was in the common area to let them in.

"Hey Vista," Vicky waved. "Dean was just about to tell us what's up with the new guys."

"New guys?" she asked, shucking her visor to match the rest of us.

"You know, the-- You actually don't, do you? You weren't at the truce meeting. Where have you been?"

She groaned.

"The emergency room."

She pulled up her dress -- she wore shorts under it, obviously -- to show the bandages wrapping her left thigh.

"Ouch," Vicky sympathized.

"Oh, it's really not that bad. I got nicked on the outside, nowhere near the artery. That's why I had to wait seventeen hours to get seen."

"Damn," Dean said. "Why not just come here? You'd have gotten priority treatment. Triumph was in and out in fifteen minutes."

I shot him a surprised look, but I guess enforcing family friendly language hadn't been seen as quite so high a priority recently. Still, unlike him to slip up.

Missy had other concerns, apparently.

"I told Mom that. Repeatedly. She didn't believe me."

Vicky looked briefly upset at the reminder that other people still have moms, but she wasn't about to pick a fight about it like she might have a couple weeks ago. Still, better to interrupt.

"Well, what's done is done," I said. "Let me get that fixed. No reason to stay injured, even if it's not that bad."

She shrugged and extended her hand. I took it and-- And gave her a pointed look. I started dragging her off into the hallway.

"Doctor-patient confidentiality," I called over my shoulder.

Once we were out of earshot I turned to her.

"Was there maybe a reason your mom didn't take your plan to get treatment at the HQ seriously?"

She scowled.

"Yeah, because she doesn't take anything I say seriously."

"Really? You can't think of any other reasons? Did you, perhaps, offer to stitch yourself up first? Like an insane person who obviously can't be trusted to make basic decisions?"

She gaped at me. As in, actual open mouth shock. I didn't think I'd ever seen that expression before in real life.

"Just guessing based on the fact you didn't get all the sutures out last time," I said. "Is that fishing line?"

She pulled herself together pretty quick, at least.

"... Yes. I looked it up, it's the best option for home use. And I sterilized it like you're supposed to."

I stared at her.

"No, Missy, you are not supposed to. What possessed you to think sewing yourself up was a good idea? You realize the Wards program covers your medical expenses, right?"

She shifted from foot to foot.

"I didn't want to admit I got injured in a fight. I'd be stuck on base until my hair went gray. I know how far Hookwolf can stretch now, it's not going to happen again." She looked up at me, pleading. "You're not going to tell anyone, right? Doctor-patient confidentiality?"

I nodded seriously.

"Of course. If I broke doctor-patient confidentiality, you could report me to the medical board and they'd take away my license to practice medicine. Or, well, that's what they would do if I had one." I leaned in, confiding. "I'm not a real doctor."

She kept up a decent front, but I could feel her panic. I smiled at the win, then realized I didn't actually have any interest in reporting this. It'd probably take forever, there'd be lots of shouting, and it would distract everyone from much more important things.

"You owe me. Big time," I finished a little lamely. More because I needed some followup to the threat than because I actually thought the favor would be worth anything.

She hastily nodded.

"Seriously, though," I said, "that was very dumb. You got stabbed in the chest. How did you know there weren't serious internal injuries?" She started to respond and I continued over her. "You didn't. You just assumed anything short of a collapsed lung could be fixed with stitches. And I can tell from the scar how atrocious your technique was -- and no, you little psycho, I'm not saying you need more practice. You probably wouldn't have a scar at all if a professional handled this. And fishing line might not be yarn, but it's still a very bad idea to let it heal over."

Of course, the chewing out was undercut by the fact I was simultaneously erasing all the consequences of her stupidity, but that's the story of my life. I can spend as long as I'd like telling some junkie how lucky they are to be alive and if I feel that wasn't enough, I can tell them again two weeks later.

We returned to a scene I really didn't need to see -- that neither of us needed to see, apparently. I felt a brief surge of compassion for poor little Missy. There wasn't anything wrong with her, really, but even if she'd been old enough, the thought of someone choosing her over Vicky was... well, about as plausible as Vicky realizing she's actually a lesbian and in love with her sister.

I coughed loudly and they jumped apart, startled.

"You were going to tell us about the extra-dimensional soldiers?"

"Extra-dimensional soldiers?" Missy questioned. "And shouldn't we be focusing on the Nine right now?"

"There are no Nine right now," I said. "It's just Bonesaw and Jack's severed head."

She looked between us, barely trying to hide her dismay. Like an insane person.

"You beat them all while I read old issues of Entertainment Weekly?"

"No," Dean said. "Well, the PRT got Crawler without us. The rest were the extra-dimensional soldiers. And the Undersiders, apparently."

I grimaced. Tattletale getting her hooks in someone who could beat Siberian was not a pleasant thought.

Vicky and Dean quickly filled her in on the basics while I zoned out. I'd heard it all before, and only half an hour ago.

"--do you mean that wasn't the first time?" Dean demanded.

Or maybe not?

Vicky frowned, irritated at his tone.

"I mentioned this at the truce meeting. I ran into Argent around two o'clock on Tuesday. She was flying over downtown in civvies. Well, plus the rifle."

It took another couple long moments for Dean's look of confusion to melt into realization.

"Right, sorry, you did mention that... What exactly happened? They're going to want a report. That can't have been more than a couple hours after she arrived on this world."

Vicky hesitated.

"At the time I assumed she was a new trigger. She looked upset, didn't have a mask, and she was tumbling like she'd lost control over her flight. I tried to catch her but I could never quite get a hold on her. I thought she had some automatic dodging thing since she wasn't paying me any attention." Bad move. Vicky hates being ignored. "When I called out to her, she sped off."

"So she just happened to be going around your top speed before?" Missy asked.

Vicky grimaced.

"Yes. She was deliberately fucking with me, I figured that out during the truce meeting. Though... if it had only been a couple hours, maybe she was genuinely upset over the Dauntless thing? Can't have been a pleasant introduction to Bet."

"Bit less pleasant for Dauntless," Missy said darkly.

"I, uh... don't think that's it," Dean said. When that wasn't enough for us, he reluctantly continued. "She described her time in Bet as a relaxing vacation from the Front. Honestly, according to multiple Thinkers. And that wasn't the first or tenth time she's killed someone. I'd be surprised if it was the hundredth."

We took a minute to digest that.

"Come on, you can't just leave things there," Missy said.

"I... really shouldn't say much. There's a lot of attention on this and it's not just Piggot pushing for secrecy."

"Well now you really have to tell us," Vicky insisted. "What's up with the Corona thing, at least?"

He hesitated briefly before giving in.

"I guess you pretty much figured it out already. There's a theory they're not really parahuman. And if they're something else, there's a lot of interest in what that something is. Not sure what to make of a Corona with no Gemma."

Vicky frowned.

"What gave you that idea?"

"No triggers, apparently. And they claim their powers are artificial. Designed."

Vicky scowled.

"Cauldron."

Missy nodded but Dean jerked a little and shook his head.

"We don't think so. Cauldron clearly doesn't have that level of control, or they'd just mass produce Alexandria and Eidolon. Anyway, Cauldron capes must have Gemmas, or they'd have been caught out a long time ago."

Vicky glanced at me, scowl relaxed back into a pensive frown.

"What do you think, Ames?"

I thought Dean was hiding something. Talking too fast, refusing to look Vicky in the eyes, his whole reply had an overacted, guilty feel to it. He noticed me noticing and I smiled. But much as I wanted to call him out, I didn't know what he was hiding. And some secrets need to stay secret. Possibly even some of Dean's. I wasn't about to let it go, but I'd make him tell me before deciding whether to make him tell Vicky.

So I just added a hint of exasperation to my smile and said, "I have no idea, Vicky. You're the cape nerd. It's not like anything else about the Corona makes sense."

She shook her head.

"There are rules. They've tried surgically removing Coronas, you know. The power doesn't go away, but it does become uncontrollable. How--"

"There was some weird brain activity," I said. "I can't interpret that sort of thing, but it was definitely related. Maybe the rest of his brain takes over for the Gemma, somehow?"

"I guess that could explain the control issue," she allowed. "There's zero indication parahumans can do that, but there hasn't been much research into removing Coronas since it became clear it wouldn't remove powers. But how does he have powers to control in the first place? Triggering produces changes in the Corona beyond the development of the Gemma." She turned to Dean. "Do you know anything about the process they use to grant powers? Some mysterious magic potion like Cauldron?"

But Dean was already shaking his head.

"They don't grant anything. Some small fraction of people are inherently capable of learning to use powers."

"Hmm," Vicky mused. "Corona prevalence is... half a percent to two percent, depending on age? Around that many?"

"It hasn't really come up. Less, I think."

"Well, they could just have fewer Coronas. Aleph does."

"So, what?" Missy asked. "Your theory is they figured out how to... jailbreak the Corona to use artificial powers? We don't have a clue how to do that with modern technology and medical knowledge."

Huh. Hadn't thought she was keeping up.

"Well, maybe it's easy and Cauldron has been suppressing research to maintain their monopoly?" Vicky half-heartedly defended.

"Cauldron's process is different, clearly. And how would they go about suppressing all research everywhere, anyway?"

Dean shifted and my suspicions grew.

"Fine," Vicky responded, unaware. "What's your theory, then?"

But of course Missy didn't actually have anything. She just wanted to make Vicky look dumb in front of Dean.

"Powers just work differently on their world," she guessed. "They can't trigger and we can't learn powers. It's not like we know why it works the way it does in the first place."

"Or..." Vicky paused for a moment, considering. "His corona looked normal, right? For someone who hasn't triggered?" I nodded. "It's possible it's new. No one on Aleph had a Corona until Haywire tore open the portal, right? Maybe he couldn't trigger, but now he can."

"That'd be a pretty big coincidence, though, wouldn't it?" Missy disagreed. "Two percent to half a percent, you said. And he's old." He was in his early thirties at most. Which was old to get powers, to be fair. "And he's only been here for... how long?"

"Oh, uh..." Dean trailed off, suddenly forced to count. "Five days?"

"Can a Corona even grow that fast?" Missy asked.

Everyone looked at me.

"Maybe?" I equivocated. "It's not like it's a normal biological process. If it can grow without genetic instructions, I don't see why it couldn't grow super fast."

"Wait," Vicky said. "Coronas aren't genetic? You're sure?"

"... Yes? Isn't that common knowledge?"

Well, maybe not common, but I was certain I'd heard Vicky ramble about it before.

She shook her head.

"It's the consensus theory, but it's not like anyone understands genetics well enough to be sure... Except you, apparently. You could revolutionize the field, couldn't you?"

I hesitated. I really wasn't comfortable with the direction this was going. Oh, sure, it'd start with "What does this gene do?" -- which didn't really sound fun but at least wouldn't be healing -- but it's not like they were any better at editing genes than interpreting them. Substantially worse, actually, and the better they understood what they'd want to change, the more pressure there'd be to find a way to actually do so. And there was no chance actual professional geneticists would miss the implications of my abilities, so all that pressure would land squarely on me. And then-- Well, I didn't want to go there.

I shook my head.

"It's not like I can rattle off base pairs off the top of my head." No, I needed a sample of living cells to observe. Of course, most biological research has the same requirement. "Even if I could, some genes stretch into the millions of base pairs." So instead of trying to relay the information verbally like a fucking moron I'd just cut out the relevant section and let them sequence it normally. "And..." I stalled, struggling to come up with another plausible-sounding pretext.

"And it'd take you away from your healing," Missy offered.

Huh, maybe my bit of extemporaneous blackmail would pay off after all. Though if Missy realized I was just looking for excuses... Nah, she might be insane but that didn't mean she wasn't the most socially perceptive person here. Look at the competition. I nodded and glanced at Vicky and Dean, and, sure enough, they didn't seem the least bit suspicious. Still, time to change the subject.

"Well, let's get back to the point," I said. "What are their powers?"

"Flight, force fields, lasers, strength and durability, mental acceleration, illusions, explosive bullets, and blade enhancement," Dean said.

I blinked.

"What, seriously? They can all do all of that?"

"Yeah, I saw most of that myself," Vicky murmured. "Plus healing apparently. And Trump immunity, though I guess that makes sense if they're not parahuman."

"Oh, and they can sense power use sometimes. And interfere with some Thinker and Master powers. And light things on fire, I'm told," Dean amended. "And that's just what we've directly observed. They claim it's possible to do much more, things like welding and chemical synthesis and sound amplification, but they're soldiers and don't know the right spells."

That startled Vicky out of her contemplation.

"Spells? They're not parahumans so you think they're wizards?"

He winced.

"Sorry, their terminology." Vicky was unimpressed. "Does it really matter what we call them?"

Her face clearly said 'yes,' but she restrained herself.

"Fine, whatever. It's definitely a lot. My whole family plus. But I don't think the individual components are that great. The lasers are weak, I've seen Militia make bigger explosions, Argent wasn't strong enough to lift Hatchet Face, any power can disrupt the illusions, and they wouldn't have focused so much on dodging if their force fields were better than mine."

Missy nodded.

"And I doubt they're faster than Velocity. It's--"

"Uh, Missy..." Dean started, then stalled.

Ah, Dean: the social Thinker who can't handle unpleasant topics. Well, I had plenty of practice here. Not that there's any real skill to it -- it's the fact that's upsetting and the delivery's not going to change that.

"Velocity is dead," I said. "The Nine caught him before the truce meeting. Everyone else is fine."

Her eyes widened and her breath caught. But, well, she'd had some practice here too. Velocity was, what, the ninth Brockton hero to die this month?

"... Well, speed doesn't matter much when I control distance. So how do we leverage all that to beat them? That's--"

"We don't," Dean blurted. "Missy, please. They're way out of our league."

She rolled her eyes.

"I don't mean the three of us, Dean. The whole team. I realize they're individually strong, but they're basically sharing a team's worth of average powers. Like a big cluster or a mini Yàngbǎn. Hardly unbeatable for a full team."

Vicky shook her head.

"They're not sharing the powers like the Yàngbǎn. They each get them at full strength. More importantly, one person with several powers will almost always be way stronger than splitting those powers among several people. Like... Hellhound, right? On her own, she's probably the worst Mover in the city. Well, after Eric, maybe. But because her whole team can ride the dogs, the Undersiders are the most mobile group in the city."

That, uh, wasn't really true anymore. But I wasn't about to remind her how New Wave achieved that position.

"Or Othala," she continued. "If she used those powers herself she'd be pretty mediocre. When she gives Hookwolf super speed or Cricket invulnerability, though, she makes them way stronger by boosting their strengths and covering their weaknesses. Same thing with these guys. You can't compare them to a normal team with a Blaster, Brute, Mover, Thinker, Striker, and Stranger; the comparison would have to be a Blaster/Striker who the Brute takes every hit for, the Mover effortlessly transports, the Thinker telepathically communicates with, and the Stranger hides with perfect coordination. And you can't prioritize the weaker members to break the synergy, either."

Missy scowled.

"How do we win, then?"

Vicky mirrored her expression.

"We don't," she admitted. "They're way out of our league. Well, making use of so many powers simultaneously can't be easy..." She shook her head. "Let's spar with the friendly ones before making any firm decisions."

Missy perked up.

"Right, we've got our own wizards to counter them. Surely we can win with their help."

"Maybe," Vicky allowed. "But we're not calling them wizards."

"Case 91s," Dean said a little helplessly. "I... don't think that's going to work. They're terrified of Argent. All three of them. Even Blitz, who's supposed to be on her side. And she took it as her due. Maybe they've got the same powers, but no one has the slightest doubt who'd win in a fight, even three-on-one"

"Should we just let Shawn's murder go, then?" Missy snapped.

Oh look, another difficult topic. But I wasn't sure I wanted to save him from this one. He very clearly wanted to say 'yes, let it go.' And it wasn't like I couldn't see why. Dauntless had been a decent guy – quite possibly the most tolerable member of the Brockton Protectorate – but there was no denying he had been in the wrong there. And if Argent was half as dangerous as he seemed to believe, pursuing revenge could end very badly. Still, to just drop it? They hadn't even buried him yet.

"We need a different approach," he finally offered. "I don't know what we can do yet, but there must be something."

Was I really the only one who could tell what a load of bullshit that was? His brilliant plan was to wait and watch, which happened to be indistinguishable in practice from just letting it go. Well, maybe that was his plan, but I could offer my own addition.

"Go after the Undersiders first," I said. "Tattletale must know something."

But Dean immediately shook his head.

"Bad idea. It'd just piss her off without any chance of bringing her in."

He really had given up on the language thing, hadn't he? But whatever, what did he mean by--

"Actually, how did you know about that?" he asked suddenly.

I exchanged a look with Vicky.

"You said it yourself," I reminded him. "She worked with the Undersiders to beat the Nine."

"And, if you haven't noticed," Vicky said, "going after the Undersiders is always Amy's plan."

That was... OK, not much of an exaggeration. But what do I know about crime fighting strategy? My job is always healing and always will be healing. But I know better than anyone how dangerous Tattletale is, how she'll only become more of a threat the longer she's given to dig into everyone's secrets. It was intensely frustrating how no one else seemed to realize, how I couldn't even really explain.

"Oh... Right, yeah," he tried to recover. "Argent and Tattletale came in together to turn in the bounties. Did you hear Argent literally pulled out a severed head in the middle of the lobby?"

But it was much too late to throw Vicky off the scent.

"That's not what you meant," she said flatly. "Doesn't explain why Argent would be pissed at us for going after the Undersiders, for one."

He folded immediately of course. There's no fighting back when Vicky uses that tone. Something she'd inherited from Carol.

"... They'd have to tell you anyway, I guess. The Undersiders work for Argent now, and she's made it clear she'll defend them."

I felt my blood chill. I'd been worried about their association before, but this was so much worse than I'd imagined. If Tattletale already had Argent--

"Stop that, Amy," Dean groaned. "Tattletale is almost as scared of Argent as Indomitable is. I don't know what's really going on there, but Tattletale at least doesn't think she has things under control."

He frowned.

"Actually, there's a related topic I really need to tell you about," he said. "Missy, would you mind getting us coffee? Please?"

Damn, exploiting her crush to exclude her? That's cold. And she certainly didn't miss it, but what could she do? She left and Dean turned to me and hesitated. The delay was annoying but I could hardly get him past this unpleasant topic. I didn't know what it was. He eventually gave up and just blurted it out.

"Tattletale said you threatened to give Skitter cancer after Leviathan."

Oh.

I shrugged.

"It's Tattletale. She lies all the time. Skitter doesn't have cancer, does she?"

Vicky wasn't convinced, obviously. She wasn't an idiot. I still held out some hope for persuading Dean, but...

"Well, I guess Armsmaster's lie detector malfunctioned on that one," he said dryly. "And a lot of Thinkers are going to watch that recording. Maybe, if you're very unlucky, all their powers will mysteriously malfunction too. And the threat alone is arguably a violation of the truce... provided one believes Tattletale's lie."

"Most Thinker powers aren't admissible in court," Vicky said.

He shook his head.

"You'd know better than me," he said. "Just, maybe talk to Ca–" Vicky flinched. "...a lawyer," he finished lamely.

I scowled. What the hell was wrong with him? Not that Dean couldn't be fantastically inconsiderate sometimes, but he'd hardly taken his foot out of his mouth all day.

"Hand," I demanded, stretching mine out.

After a moment he complied.

... Well, that explains it.

"Fuck, Dean, were you planning on sleeping this week? You look like a resident coming off back-to-back thirty hour shifts."

"They don't really do that, do they?" Vicky half asked.

"They're certainly not supposed to," I said. "Coffee's really not going to fix this..."

I did what I could, which wasn't too much. I created norepinephrine and melatonin antagonists, removed lactic acid build up in his muscles, and did a dozen other small things... but it's ultimately the brain that needs sleep and I wouldn't -- couldn't -- touch that.

Still, he groaned in relief.

"Thanks Amy."

"Try being less of an ass," I said. "And you actually need to sleep at some point."

He shook his head.

"I'll try. On both points. So, what are we going to do about--"

Hale returned, finally. Without Blitz. He did not look happy.

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TorontoTowers

Jun 20, 2023

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TorontoTowers

TorontoTowers

Jun 27, 2023

#2,061

2.E

-- Aisha Laborn Imp --

"So, where are these guns?" Tanya asked.

Huh. Where were the guns? We certainly didn't bring them -- the dogs don't exactly have saddle bags -- and neither did the mages. Had Lisa really brought us all the way out of the city to test the new guns, only to forget them? That's hilarious.

But she was smirking. Not much, by Lisa standards, but she certainly thought she knew something we didn't. Well, that Tanya didn't. She wasn't able to think anything about me at the moment.

"I haven't taken delivery yet. No reason to let them know where we live."

As though there weren't a hundred empty warehouses in the city? Nah, she just wanted to show off.

"You want to meet our Toybox contact?" Lisa asked. "I placed the order, but the secret of our association is blown anyway."

Shit, Toybox? I wanted to meet our Toybox contact, and I hadn't even known we'd had one. Well, she probably meant Coil's Toybox contact, which was ours now like the rest of Coil's stuff.

But Tanya was less enthused.

"The Tinker black market? I told you to prioritize reliability and you bought Tinker tech? We can't even maintain it ourselves."

Lisa shook her head.

"They run a sideline in mundane low volume custom machining. Cape equipment, mainly, where Tinker tech doesn't make sense. It's not cheap, but its high quality and very fast."

"The turnaround time is impressive, I'll admit," Tanya responded. "I'd expected a week at least for sourcing the guns and making the modifications, and that was before Shatterbird. How 'not cheap' are we talking?"

"Try a month. Maybe two. You can't just carve into a modern rifle barrel and hope, there's engineering work that needs to be done," Lisa said. "As for the price... At least take a look at what we got first?"

Tanya raised an eyebrow, face impassive.

"Three hundred fifty thousand dollars."

I choked. Tanya frowned pensively.

"How much engineering work are we talking? That's absurdly expensive for a few rifles and absurdly cheap for a rifle development program. Of course, I didn't ask you to start a rifle development program."

Lisa shrugged.

"No, you just gave me an impossible list of requirements for an off the shelf rifle. Battle rifles are rare enough, and all the commercial and military models are optimized for weight and recoil management and definitely not melee combat at an appreciable fraction of the speed of sound. They're based off an existing design with substantial modifications and were fabricated in house out of some fancy non-Tinker alloy. I'm told we're actually getting a big discount because Iridescent took an interest."

"Well, I guess the price isn't too unreasonable in that case, and we can certainly afford it. You're sure these guys know what they're doing?" Tanya asked. "Even minor differences in metallurgy and design can cause problems in a firearm. They can't have done much testing in the three days since you placed the order."

"The guns aren't Tinker tech but the tools used to make them are. Iridescent's power apparently gives him engineering VIs that can work on normal materials just fine. And they have a few normal engineers, too. They've got a good reputation and they're certainly better qualified than you or me."

Tanya nodded. Finally.

"How's the hand off going to work? Did you tell them to meet us near here?"

I groaned, not that anyone noticed.

"Not yet," Lisa replied. She pulled out a matte black cube. "This anchor should allow them to open a portal from their pocket dimension right to us. Just let me--"

"Stop!" Tanya barked and Lisa froze. "I want you to tell me how the hand off is going to work."

Lisa relaxed, but not completely.

"I'll activate the anchor, place it on the ground, and text them. I already gave them an approximate time, so they should be ready when we are. A portal will appear above the anchor, a rectangle that can vary in size from a drive through window to a garage door, roughly. Probably on the smaller side, given our order. Frank, our contact, should be on the other side with the guns. Maybe Iridescent, too. The payment is already in escrow, so he'll hand them over, I'll confirm delivery, and they'll close the portal. You don't need to be here for it if you don't want."

Tanya snorted.

"And leave you to be killed or captured, if that's what they have in mind? No, let them make the delivery to an empty field, and then we'll retrieve the guns once we're sure they're gone."

Lisa hesitated.

"Tanya, that's... Well, we can do that if you really want, but it's very rude. Certainly no way to make friends, and Toybox would be very good friends to have. I was planning on using this as a trial run, too, see if we can trust them with the orb project. A normal watchmaker is really not going to have the sort of security we'll want for that."

Tanya grimaced as she thought.

"How likely do you think this is to be a trap?"

"Not at all likely," Lisa responded immediately. "Reputation is life and death for groups like them. You can't call the police if your illegal Tinker tech order falls through, so no one would buy from them if there were the slightest rumor of crooked dealing. Not saying they're one hundred percent trustworthy, but this deal is nothing to them."

She stopped to consider for a moment.

"I might be worth kidnapping and selling, but I don't think they'd do that. Tinkers are even bigger targets for that sort of thing than Thinkers, and Toybox was founded as a sort of mutual protection society for exactly that reason. Even if they'd be willing to do it, they don't know what sort of backing I have. And, again, it'd have gotten out by now if they attacked their customers regularly. And Frank definitely doesn't think it's a trap, for what that's worth."

Tanya wasn't completely convinced.

"And if you're wrong, they could have anything at all on the other side of that portal. If they want us dead and we're standing here when the portal opens, we'll die... But I take your point. We'll stand a hundred meters back behind an active barrier with the men in position to provide supporting fire, and if it looks safe once it opens, I'll fly you in. Now, are the edges of the portal sharp? What happens to anything halfway across if it closes suddenly? Do--"

I went to go see what Taylor, Brian, and Weiss were talking about.

"Well, no, that's not really surprising. Any solid or liquid can stop my power. I've never tried to move it through a forcefield, but I don't see why it wouldn't stop it."

A pool of Brian's darkness pressed against an invisible surface in front of Weiss. Suddenly, the surface seemed to vanish and the darkness flooded over Weiss's feet.

"Try moving your hand through the same space," Weiss said.

Brian did, and while I couldn't see his hand in the darkness, his arm stopped as though it had run into something.

"It's the manna barrier that stopped your power, not the kinetic or gas barriers."

"His power is a gas," Taylor said. "Look, it's moving in the wind."

"Not inside my shell, it's not," Weiss responded. "Because my shell is airtight at the moment."

He gestured and a half sphere of darkness rose up as though scooped by an invisible bowl. He stuck a finger in it curiously and swirled it around, feeling the resistance.

"It's magic. I don't understand why you're so sure it's not when you can't even sense magic yourself."

"... Well, can you cast the same spell, then?" Taylor asked.

Weiss shook his head.

"It'd be useful -- it's pretty hard to push magic through, and I don't know any spell effects quite like it. If only it were that easy. No, modern casting relies on a very specific magical formulation. There are known magical effects it can't produce at all, and creating a new formula can take experts years in some cases, even with an example of the effect to work back from. And doing anything practical with magic at all outside that paradigm is... well, not impossible, but certainly beyond me. I won't say it's beyond the Colonel, but I doubt she's spent any time on such an impractical pursuit."

"Impractical?" Brian questioned. "Even though it can do things your casting method can't?"

"If the traditional methods were better we'd still be using them. They're unreliable and inefficient, bound up in superstition, very difficult to teach, and even then generally produce unimpressive results. Merely achieving consistent flight was enough to be accounted an archmage pre-unification. Even without an orb, a modern mage would beat a traditional one seven times in ten. With an orb, only the very greatest archmages with all their foci would stand a chance."

"Why--" Taylor started, but Tanya interrupted, her voice emerging from the air. In German.

I waited impatiently while she and Weiss had a brief conversation, but then it seemed like something was finally happening.

"We're going to contact Toybox shortly," he said.

"Uh, we are?" Brian asked. Because Lisa had wanted it to be a surprise, and then she'd only actually revealed that surprise to Tanya (and me).

Weiss filled them in. Bored, I started gently pushing Brian away from the others. If I do it just right and stop him from walking back, they'll all gradually raise their voices to keep talking. Then I can suppress my power and demand to know what all the yelling is about. That one never--

"Skitter, you're to hide a hundred meters behind the portal so you're safe while keeping everything comfortably within your range." Weiss shouted. Kind of him to include Brian. "Grue, you should stay... over there," he finished, confused. Or not.

Funny as it continued being seeing Brian sent to the kid's table, I wasn't thrilled about how Tanya treated the team. Like only Lisa was worth anything and the rest of us were her accessories. Occasionally she'd give Taylor something to do because she was Lisa's favorite... creepy spider brooch(?), and otherwise we should be happy she remembered our names. Our cape names, I mean, because she'd never asked for the real ones. Coil had had his downsides, for sure, but the Undersiders had at least been a team under him. Now? I wasn't sure.

Well, I wasn't about to stay away from the action. I followed Taylor back to where they were prepping the portal.

Koenig hovered a block or so back from the anchor, not quite aiming his rifle but not quite not aiming it either. Lisa stood closer but still pretty far away and Tanya hovered just over the ground beside her. Weiss and Granz flew to the sides a little behind and well above where the portal should appear, presumably so they wouldn't be immediately visible from the other side but could quickly come around if Tanya decided to murder Toybox. I stood right in front of the anchor, because, well, I wasn't getting a ride with Tanya when it opened. If they've really packed the other side with high explosives or whatever Tanya was thinking, guess I'll just die.

Lisa sent the text and seconds later the portal opened. A bright line appeared over the anchor and space parted like stage curtains. I curiously peered into the other side -- it was pretty dim compared to afternoon sunlight -- only to be nearly blinded as a figure stepped out onto our side, costume best described as 'shiny as fuck.' Iridescent. Or maybe that's Frank and the older black guy in jeans and an old band t-shirt is Iridescent. Could go either way, really.

We waited awkwardly for a couple moments while Tanya grabbed Lisa and flew over.

"Tattletale," the cape said with a pronounced British accent. "You're a bit late. Anything to worry about?"

"No, sorry, just had to relocate after some hikers stumbled over us," Lisa lied with a smile. She gestured to Tanya. "This is Argent, who asked me to commission the guns. Argent, this is Iridescent and Frank."

Turned out my first guess was right.

"No Coil?" Frank asked.

"No," Lisa said, chipper. "He's going to be taking a more passive role in the organization going forward for health reasons. Had you wanted to see him?"

Frank shrugged.

"We aren't -- or weren't -- friends. I know how these things go. So long as your money's good, we won't inquire further."

Lisa smiled, but Iridescent spoke up before she could respond.

"That is an excellent reproduction," he said with admiration, looking at Tanya's uniform. "Bit dirty, but I guess that's authentic. And is that a Mondragón M1908?"

"It's not a reproduction," Tanya said flatly.

Iridescent chuckled.

"Don't think they made any in your size, little Oberstleutnant, but it is very well done."

I took a few quick steps away. Maybe Tanya would decide to murder them.

"Argent is a dimensional traveler!" Lisa hastily interjected. "She really is exactly what she appears to be."

Frank and Iridescent shared a glance.

"You're telling me I made these guns for a... cape officer of the Kaiserreich? And that is an original Mondragón... You fought in the war?"

"Shit, why didn't you say?" Frank asked. "Iridescent would have done this job for free."

Iridescent ignored both Frank and his own question.

"May I see your rifle?" he asked, hand already extended.

"... No," Tanya replied.

Lisa elbowed her. Elbowed her forcefield, rather. Either way, Tanya looked at her and sighed.

"Major, please come here. Iridescent would like to inspect your rifle." She paused for a moment. "Empty it first."

"You know I build firearms, right?" Iridescent said. "That's why you hired me."

Tanya shrugged. Weiss startled both men as he came around the edge of the portal. Iridescent just stared at him, but Frank looked around with some wariness. He noted Koenig with a start.

"This is a bit of an elaborate set up," he said. "Hiding any more capes?"

"I don't know you. You'll forgive some caution," Tanya dodged. "If I were planning on ambushing you I'd have done it already. And I wouldn't have brought Tattletale."

Careful, Tanya, putting it that way implies you'll be less cautious once you do know them.

But Iridescent paid the sideline absolutely no attention, grabbing Weiss's rifle and immediately starting to play with it.

"... The delivery?" Tanya asked after ten quiet seconds.

Frank shrugged and returned through the portal. I was sorely tempted to follow him, but 'don't go after a Tinker in their lair' must go octuple for Toybox. They'd have cameras for sure. Probably linked to automated laser turrets or something. Fortunately Frank didn't make us wait long. He returned with two rugged black crates and placed them in front of Argent with a flourish.

She took a quick step back, dragging Lisa when she didn't immediately follow. Weiss noticed and moved beside her. The air between them and the crates shimmered slightly.

"Open them, if you don't mind?"

Frank stared for a moment, then shrugged and popped one open.

I wasn't a paranoid wreck, so I got the first view of the guns. They were... Well, guns. Ten of them in a neat row. Black and vaguely menacing, with various levers and ridged sections and holes. I might not actually know anything about guns. If they'd really used some fancy alloy like Lisa said, you couldn't tell just by looking at them. I considered grabbing one, but I didn't really want to start a fight if Tanya decided they were shortchanging us. The things I do for--

"I'll give you a quarter million," Iridescent suddenly declared. "More if you have any documentation. The condition isn't great, but that's to be expected in a rifle that saw combat. German Mondragóns are hard to come by at the best of times, and the extra dimensional origins are worth a premium."

What, for that piece of shit? Weiss blinked at him.

"You want to... purchase my service rifle? It's not mine to sell."

"It is if you're never going back to your world," Lisa said. "And even if you did, I think they'd care a lot more about the new rifle you brought back than the old one you 'lost.'"

He frowned.

"I'm not concerned about getting away with the theft. I'm not a thief."

Tanya looked a little conflicted, but ultimately nodded.

"I have to agree with the major. Historical preservation is a noble pursuit, but our guns aren't historical artifacts. It wouldn't be proper."

"Four hundred thousand," Iridescent tried.

"I don't see how that makes it more proper," Tanya said dryly.

Have to wonder whether her tune would change if she wasn't due over a hundred million in bounty money. Easy to be principled when you're rich. Er, actually, how serious are they about the 'not thieves' thing? What does she think we do?

Iridescent's entire face was covered with an array of colorful... lenses? scales? Both? Regardless, while they were technically transparent, the extreme distortion left no hope for making out his expression. Still, I could practically feel the pain and reluctance with which he allowed Weiss to tug the rifle out of his hands. Weiss immediately started to load it. Because he'd spent way too much time around Tanya, presumably.

"You're into guns, I take it?" Lisa tried to salvage the conversation. "Want to tell us about these new ones?" She looked at Tanya and hesitated. "It might make more sense to have everyone here for this."

After a moment Tanya nodded and started mumbling into the air in German.

What about the other crate? Frank had never actually gotten around to opening it. I moved over. Well, I guess it was possible this was the one with the trap Tanya expected, and Frank had only opened the other to lure us into a false sense of security. See the risks I take for this team? I leaned over and--

"Let's leave that one for later, Miss," Iridescent said.

Uh...

"What?" Tanya asked, frowning.

Well, nothing for it. I shoved my power down before she could break out the chemical weapons.

"Imp," I introduced myself with a small wave.

"Imp," Lisa groaned, speaking over me. Rude. "Get over here."

Yeah right. I let my power snap back into place and flipped her off. Everyone looked confused for a moment. Even Iridescent. Good, it was just a fluke. Sometimes people can break out of my power when I mess with something very important to them. Normally that means attacking them, but I guess this guy is really into guns.

But after a moment he said, "Oh, she's a Stranger?"

... Or he was just confused why everyone else was ignoring me. Oops.

"Stranger?" Tanya demanded. "Where--"

"Imp!" Lisa shouted. "It's just Imp." She turned to Iridescent, eyes narrowed. "I don't suppose you sell those visors?"

He chuckled and I narrowed my own eyes. She would need to be punished, of course, but -- I glanced at Iridescent, who was still looking at me -- not in front of the outsiders.

"Maybe something could be arranged. Some of the features of this particular model aren't ready for prime time, but for just the anti-Stranger tech? Call it a million. Two hundred a year for the service contract, plus a hundred for any additional units beyond the first."

She bit her lip, seriously considering it. Ouch. A million dollars just to get rid of me? She eventually shook her head. Aw, thanks--

"She'd steal it the first time I went to sleep."

Oh, right, I'd obviously do that.

The digression proved just long enough for Koenig and Granz to make their way over... with Alec and Rachel. And Weiss had apparently left to fetch Brian. Taylor noticed and jogged over on her own. Huh. I hadn't thought Lisa had meant everyone everyone, and I couldn't imagine Tanya going out of her way to include us. Frank looked around the group that had suddenly tripled in number with wide eyes.

"You may proceed," Tanya said and Iridescent leaned down and grabbed one of the guns.

"I can't tell you how thrilled I was to see your order. I've long had an interest in firearm design and in particular in updating old designs for the parahuman era. Despite what some claim, guns remain effective against the vast majority of parahumans, even low level Brutes. Meanwhile, Brutes, Movers, and Strangers all have substantial advantages in using guns. There's so much potential there, and what do we see? There's that abomination the Butcher carries around-- Are you familiar?

"We're new to this world," Tanya reminded him.

"Ah, of course. She uses a minigun -- that is, a rotary machine gun that fires three thousand rounds a minute intended for aircraft use. Now, three thousand rounds a minute makes sense for an aircraft mounted gun, given the long ranges and limited engagement windows they can expect. For a cape fight? She doesn't even have sights on it. The only way she's hitting anything at a hundred meters is if she hits everything at a hundred meters, and of course she's not carrying the thousands of rounds a mounted gun would have to make that viable. So you know what she did? She had the fire rate reduced! Now, granted, seven hundred rounds a minute makes a lot more sense for the way she uses it. That's why most infantry machine guns have fire rates around there."

He paused for effect.

"So why the hell isn't she using one? There's literally no purpose to a rotary barrel system at seven hundred rounds a minute. She's carrying around five extra barrels and a complicated and delicate rotary mechanism, about thirty extra kilograms, all for a markedly worse gun than any old M240. Oh, and she better hope she remembered to charge the fucking battery or it won't do a thing! Ah, I should mention modern aircraft all have electrical systems, so the designers could safely assume there'd always be electricity available. Or at least they could until that maniac decided to rip their hard work out of the helicopter where it made sense!"

... Damn, this guy was that into guns. Even Tanya looked put off by his enthusiasm. She started quietly asking Lisa something and I hurried over.

"--sure are you? He seems a bit... overeager."

Lisa's frown melted into realization. She shrugged.

"I'm sure he'd be happy to give a demonstration. If his work is shoddy, let it explode in his hands instead of ours."

Oh, that made sense.

Tanya paused, embarrassed at her true worry being so easily found out, then nodded.

"--the Swedish pattern HK G3 as a base," Iridescent continued, unaware of the digression. "The battle rifle platform is the obvious choice for a low level Brute, essentially a scaled up assault rifle, offering improved stopping power while retaining reasonable magazine sizes and readily available ammunition. 7.62x51mm NATO is a slightly smaller cartridge than what you're used to, but advances in propellant chemistry since your time mean you should be able to find a loading with similar bullet weight and muzzle energy."

"You have brought some ammunition, right?" Tanya asked. "I'd like to test them out today."

"Of course. Actually, I think there's supposed to be one more crate with the ammo, accessories, and extras. Frank, do you mind?"

He grumbled a bit and disappeared into the portal.

"So, starting from the Swedish G3 -- a battle-tested, reliable weapon with good inherent accuracy and some surprisingly modern features for a sixty year old design -- I made a series of modifications in line with your requirements. I replaced the adjustable stock with a modular fixed stock for sturdiness, replaced all the structural and external components with Big Rig's favorite steel blend, moved the bayonet lug to the bottom and beefed it up -- I think you'll like the redesigned bayonets, too, they're about twice the size of the originals and intended for slashing as well as stabbing -- thickened the barrel a bit to account for the silver inlay, and improved the trigger pull."

Damn, that's some lung capacity. Frank had returned while he wound down and had opened the third crate. He retrieved a clip and handed it to Iridescent.

"Ready to try it out?" iridescent asked, extending the rifle and magazine towards Tanya.

"You may do the honors." She gestured to the right of the portal, empty of people since Granz had joined us. "Try for the lone tree a hundred fifty meters back."

"Oh?" Iridescent inquired. "I'm permitted to wield a loaded weapon in your presence, now?"

"You are," Tanya replied placidly, unbothered by the apparent inconsistency.

But I could tell she was pretty keyed up in spite of her tone. Probably preparing to kill Iridescent the instant he made a wrong move. But Iridescent didn't notice or didn't care. He wasted no time shoving the clip in and performing several more mysterious rituals, including rather violently slapping it at one point. A few seconds later he held the rifle against his shoulder and pulled the trigger.

Fuck that's loud! Makes Lisa's pistol sound like a cap gun. Iridescent, Frank, and the mages didn't care, but everyone else flinched at the noise. Frank noticed and bent over the crate then tossed Lisa a pack of earplugs. Everyone crowded around her for a pair as Iridescent took his second shot. I stole Brian's rather than risk startling Tanya, who still looked like she was just waiting for an excuse to eviscerate Iridescent. (She must realize he's got at least one bullshit Tinker weapon in his suit, right? Why is she so focused on the gun?) Brian sheepishly returned to Lisa, who rolled her eyes at him before giving him another set. Just in time as it turned out, as Iridescent flicked a switch on the rifle and emptied the clip in one long burst.

"I see nothing to complain about," Tanya said. Wait, how could I hear her through the earplugs? She glanced at the tree. "Well, excepting your marksmanship."

"Think you can do better?" Iridescent asked with an audible smirk, tossing Tanya the rifle.

"--optics? I wanted to give you a chance to try without them first, but I'm frankly not sure you'll see much improvement. That was some incredible shooting," Iridescent gushed.

Giving Tanya an opportunity to show off turned out to be just the thing to break the ice. After blowing up that tree and every other one Iridescent could point out, she'd had the men set up an impromptu shooting range by carving a large tree into slices a couple feet thick with their bullshit magic lightsabers and propping them up at various ranges. They'd all spent a few minutes flying around in increasingly complicated patterns while shooting -- it was too easy on the ground, evidently -- but Tanya wanted to keep things moving. She'd let the men continue while she resumed the conversation with Iridescent.

"Take a look," Tanya said, tossing him the rifle. As Iridescent caught it, I noticed a weird distortion over the barrel that-- Oh.

"That is fascinating," Iridescent said, looking through the magic scope. "Can you adjust the zoom--" She could.

"When did you zero it?" Frank asked.

"It keeps a rolling average of bullet paths as you shoot, adjusting the zero automatically," Tanya said.

Frank and Iridescent shared a glance.

"That's a very versatile power," Iridescent said. "And your whole cluster can do it?"

"Cluster?" Tanya asked.

"When multiple people trigger at the same time, they divide up all the powers," Lisa offered. "Each member gets a decent main power and everyone else gets a related minor power. Circus is one, pretty sure."

Leaving how much to tell them up to Tanya? Probably smarter than stepping on her toes, though they'd obviously need to know something if they were going to work on the orbs.

"Powers work a little differently on our world," Tanya admitted.

Fortunate she'd reached that conclusion as well, however reluctantly. She could reign in her paranoia when it mattered. Though she must realize giving them so little would only whet their appetites.

"I'm more curious about magazine options," Tanya continued before they could ask anything else. "Twenty rounds is fine, but we don't spend a lot of time firing from prone. No reason not to use something bigger."

"Ah," Iridescent nodded. "German Mondragóns were often issued to aviators with thirty round drum mags, weren't they? Not terribly reliable, even relative to contemporary box mags, but it makes some sense given the operational context."

"I'm aware," Tanya dryly replied. "But I was thinking double length box magazines, not drums. Or quad stack, if you can manage it."

"That's tough," Frank said. "Magazines may seem simple, but designing a truly reliable one can be harder than the rest of the gun put together, especially if you want to do something inventive with it. Just elongating the box leads to spring force issues--"

"Not that we can't do it," Iridescent interrupted, then sighed. "But if you want to go past twenty five, maybe twenty eight rounds, that's going to be a major project. And, frankly, I have other orders I've been ignoring to work on yours. A week at least, and we'd probably need to charge as much again."

He actually sounded genuinely regretful at the thought of wringing another three hundred thousand dollars out of us for a minor adjustment. What a weirdo.

"Well, I'd take twenty five or twenty eight if that's relatively easy to make reliable," Tanya said. "But I'd like to do some more thorough testing before making a major commitment. Get back to us with a quote and I'll consider it. Oh, and if we want more rifles, do you have a unit price in mind?"

Iridescent, transparently disinterested in money, let Frank handle that one.

"I think we can go as low as seventeen thousand without the optic. Maybe sixteen, if you're going to want more than fifty. Steep, I know, but bear in mind we don't do mass production. We've got limited CNC capacity, we have to buy the steel from Big Rig, and rent in the pocket dimension isn't cheap."

Tanya frowned.

"How tough are these rifles, exactly? I've gone through more than a few guns in my time."

"Wood furniture," Iridescent dismissed. "There's an upper limit on the quality of non-Tinker alloys, but it should be fine structurally so long as you don't, I don't know, try to break rocks with it. The nitride coating is nothing fancy for the twenty-first century, but it should still be way better against moisture and corrosion than the stuff you're used to."

"We could offer a service contract," Frank said. "Up to ten repairs or replacements a year for a fixed fee... Maybe fifty thousand?"

Tanya shrugged.

"Let's see how long it takes the men to break one, first."

"Well," Iridescent clapped his hands, "that's enough business talk for the moment. Tattletale and I have prepared a surprise for you." He gestured towards the second crate, still closed. Fucking Finally! "Why don't you call the men down? They're going to want to see this."

Tanya hesitated, paranoia making a brief return, but she pushed it down and did as she was asked.

"That is absurd," Tanya said flatly. "I'm not sure I could lift it without my powers."

The crate, around the same size as the first, held only a single gun. It was big.

Lisa handed Tanya a bullet. Her small hand wrapped around it, barely covering half its length.

"... I suppose I see the appeal. Still..."

"The original was only twenty five pounds," Lisa said. "You're the one who insisted on all steel construction."

Tanya's eyebrows raised.

"Only?"

"Colonel!" Koenig called, nearly vibrating. "I'm happy bearing this burden. It fits my name."

His name? What?

Tanya looked at him and sighed.

"Let Iridescent give his demonstration first, at least."

And Iridescent did, obviously gleeful at the reception.

"When Tattletale said your power scaled with bullet weight, I just knew what we had to do. This design is based on the Gepárd GM6 Lynx, the most compact semi auto .50 BMG rifle that's passed military trials. I've improved the trigger pull, swapped out the materials, and figured out how to make the inlay work with the reciprocating barrel, but enough about that. Let's get to shooting!"

He squatted over the crate and pulled the rifle out. It didn't seem that heavy -- Frank had carried it out crate and all with one hand -- but I could see how holding it up to your shoulder could get tiring. Iridescent gave it a go regardless after loading it and-- Damn, that's loud even through the earplugs. I was half expecting the recoil to knock him on his ass after all the buildup, but he only swayed a little. Oh well. The way the whole barrel moved back and forth was cool, at least.

Koenig tore it from his hands moments later, and I do mean 'tore.' If Iridescent had been foolish enough to try to hold on, he'd have probably broken something.

"I've always said we needed anti-tank rifles," he said.

"Oh, that's not an anti-tank rifle," Iridescent corrected. "Anti-materiel. Lightly armored vehicles, fuel tanks, grounded aircraft, mines, and so on. It won't take out a modern tank, the armor's gotten too good."

Koenig snorted.

"Maybe not when you fire it."

The inlay started glowing ominously.

"Don't ruin the range," Tanya instructed with some exasperation. "And if you blow all your reserves playing around, you're riding the dogs back."

"I think there's a buried water line over there," Lisa said, waving vaguely behind the group. "And what was that about your name?"

"My hero name. The Colonel hasn't said?" Tanya grimaced as he posed with the rifle. "I am Langer Max! Big Gun, in this barbaric tongue."

OK...

"But... we're villains?" Brian asked.

Koenig scoffed.

"No American is calling me 'villain' while I fight for the Empire!"

Shit, I think he's won me over. Tanya's expression sealed it.

"Just... go play with your new toy," she commanded, utterly mortified.

Max flew off happily and Tanya turned to Iridescent, determined to change the subject.

"You put a bayonet lug on the reciprocating barrel?" she asked. "Doesn't that risk breaking the mechanism?"

Iridescent shook his head.

"I did consider that," he said, tone still a little amused. "Engaging the safety locks the barrel securely, either extended or retracted."

"Well," Tanya said, "I don't care about the unit price because I'm not buying him another if he breaks it. Do--"

A truly incredible explosion occurred in the distance. I could feel it in my chest, through my feet. Once the dust settled I was sure there'd be an actual crater. Damn!

Right next to Lisa, I heard her mumble, "Why did I do this?"

Tanya was completely unfazed, of course.

"Do you have anything else for us?" she calmly asked.

Iridescent tore his eyes away from the site of the blast, shaking his head.

"Nothing special. An assortment of commercial combat knives, pistols with holsters and extra magazines, one P90 submachine gun, and a cavalry saber, all in the third crate. Oh, and some of those custom bullets Tattletale wanted, no promises about the ballistics. We can go through it all if you'd like?"

"We have that meeting with Cranial and Glace in seven minutes," Frank said. "This was supposed to be a quick delivery."

Iridescent sagged briefly -- he really was good at conveying emotion through the full coverage armor, provided that was intentional and not just how he normally acted -- but he straightened a moment later.

"So, we have six minutes to chat. Tell me, have you met von Hindenburg?" he half begged.

Tanya hesitated, thrown by the sudden change in direction. She eventually shook her head.

"My world's history has progressed somewhat differently from yours. The only Imperial General's name you'd recognize is Rommel."

"You know the Desert Fox?" he demanded. Tanya winced. "Wait, wouldn't he be very young to be a general?" he asked the preteen colonel. He hesitated, realizing his mistake. "... Not that--"

"The war started late in my world," Tanya cut him off. "He's a little young for his position, but not incredibly so. And yes, we're acquainted. I didn't spend too long on the African Front, but he seems to be running it reasonably well."

"Damn." He shook his head wonderingly. "Any other figures I'd recognize? From outside Germany, maybe?"

"I haven't done an exhaustive inventory. I'm pretty sure Pierre-Michel de Lugo is your world's Charles de Gaulle."

"Oh?" he asked, intrigued. "Do you know him, too?"

Tanya stared at him.

"He's an enemy general. I've done my damnedest to kill him. Only ever came close, more's the pity."

That briefly put a damper on Iridescent's enthusiasm, but he soon sprung back. I was getting bored, though. As fun as it had been at first watching Tanya struggle with the reality of nerdy fanboys, it was getting a little old. I sidled over to Frank and pushed my power down. He jumped and I gave him a moment to compose himself.

"Imp," he greeted halfheartedly.

"So, what's it like?" I prodded. "Being Iridescent's minder. You're an actual engineer with a real degree and everything, right? But he's the one that makes all the cool stuff and you're the one that handles sales and carries things."

But if I thought that was going to hit a nerve, I was mistaken. He chuckled.

"Oh, Iridescent's not so bad. My life is less stressful on the clock, to be honest: only one hyperactive child with no sense of self preservation to wrangle." There was a lot of fondness in his voice and I didn't think it was for Mr. Shiny. "It's my wife you'd have to..."

He trailed off and after a moment I noticed my grip on my power had slipped. Ugh. I really didn't want to go through the whole rigmarole of suppressing it again, trying to explain what had happened, and then getting back into the conversation, only to probably slip again a few sentences later.

I cut my losses and went to bother Alec instead.

Edit: fixed a couple typos

Last edited: Jun 29, 2023

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TorontoTowers

Jun 27, 2023

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TorontoTowers

TorontoTowers

Jul 7, 2023

#2,129

2.F

-- Aisha Laborn Imp --

"Not sure if you've all heard yet, but in the bounty meeting yesterday I was put in the position of having to either take responsibility for you or hang you out to dry, easy pickings for my enemies."

Turned out there was a reason Tanya had wanted the Undersiders here. After Toybox cleared out she wasted no time gathering us all up for... whatever this was.

"In the heat of the moment I chose the former. Can't say I'm thrilled about that but it's what happened. Now, what does that mean for you? Well, you're certainly not soldiers and I have no plans to treat you like you are. I don't have the time to train you properly, and, frankly, your powers aren't good enough to justify the effort."

I got the vague sense I was supposed to feel insulted, but... nope. If my power's not good enough to justify 'proper training,' that's a bullet dodged. Gotta say, though, Dad as a little girl is a bit freaky.

"What I do expect from you is this: First, don't embarrass me. I placed you under my protection and that means I'm responsible for your actions. Don't commit crimes the authorities will come whining to me about. Don't start fights I'll have to finish. Don't talk to the media at all. Simple stuff. Ask Tattletale if you're not sure about anything."

"Actually, that's not completely clear to me," Lisa said. "Just walking down the street with my gun is a felony -- several, actually -- and I'm pretty sure you don't want me to get rid of it."

Tanya nodded.

"Allowances have to be made for the local situation. I meant what I said: so long as the authorities don't care, neither do I." She paused. "Well, even if they do, I promised to protect you: your safety comes first. And however much the authorities have elected to neglect their duty, I do expect you to comport yourselves with some integrity. No murder, no rape. Don't hurt or rob innocents."

'No murder?' Has the blood even dried from your last massacre? Not that I'm complaining about that, obviously -- Hookwolf melted into a little puddle! -- but... Oh, I get it. She actually means 'no murder without permission.' Well, she is paying us, and so far I have no complaints about who she thinks deserves murdering. I'll give her a chance, at least.

"Second: when it comes to your safety, I expect you to pull your own weight. Avoid unnecessary risks. Give up on this ridiculous territory thing. I'm not even clear on what Coil wanted out of it, but--"

"The people in my territory depend on me," Taylor interrupted. "You're right the authorities are neglecting their duty. We've picked up the slack. If we just abandon them, it'll be anarchy. Well, until the Merchants come in and impose their own brand of 'order.'"

That seemed to strike a chord with Tanya. No big surprise. Dad's very into the whole responsibility thing, too. She took a few seconds to think it over, but ultimately shook her head.

"We just don't have the forces to occupy a city of this size, not by a factor of ten. And yes, that is what you're suggesting. Even if we pulled it off, I bet the state and federal governments would take exception, however badly they're mismanaging things now. No, the only real solution is to restore the legitimate government's capacity to govern. The Merchants and the Pure will be... removed, one way or another, as will any other villains that come sniffing around. If they truly can't manage even with no opposition... Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"We could put some money towards reconstruction," Lisa offered. "Get the roads clear at least. I think we'd come out ahead on that. The quicker we get the city back on its feet, the less our holdings will depreciate."

Tanya nodded, pleased.

"Hmm. You might be surprised how little a few million really buys you on the scale of public infrastructure, but it's not a bad idea. Look into it, but talk to me before putting money down."

Third day on this world and she's already lecturing us on the value of a dollar? She really is Dad as a little girl.

But Taylor wasn't satisfied.

"I'm not talking about the whole city. We're keeping order in our territories right now, and we have a responsibility to those people."

"Actually, only you are really doing that," Lisa said. "We're trying, but our powers aren't nearly as well suited to monitoring everything and everyone in a large area. Best we can really do is make sure the relief shipments get distributed in a vaguely fair manner. I think Argent is right we'd need way more people to do it properly."

I, uh, didn't actually think we were all trying that hard. Bitch mostly scared people away from her place and Regent didn't care at all so long as he wasn't personally inconvenienced. I'd pushed a rapist or two down the stairs when I'd stumbled over them, but I'd only stumbled over them because I'd gotten bored and decided to go spy on random people. Not sure how Taylor got it into her head this was our job, but... Wait, actually, didn't Coil say something about that? OK, fair, it might literally have been our job. Guess that explains why Brian was doing it; I actually caught him holding court like some medieval lord, dweeb that he is.

"My territory, then," Taylor said. "And Tattletale's shelter. Surely we can manage that much?"

She didn't sound upset, in that creepy way Taylor has of not sounding... much of anything, but I was pretty sure she was anyway.

Tanya hesitated.

"You understand you're making those people a target, right? If hurting them provides a convenient way to draw us out, our enemies will take it."

"That wouldn't work on most villains," Lisa responded. "Protection rackets don't generally extend to actual protection. Retaliation, sure, but not risking fights with unknowns."

"... We're not running a protection racket, though?" Taylor asked.

What, was she worried we were going behind her back, demanding money from the people she was protecting? That's... Actually, that's a pretty fun idea. Not worth the shit I'd get for it, probably, but fun.

Lisa shrugged.

"No, but that's what it looks like from the outside."

"That's a pretty flimsy shield if we actually intend to protect them," Tanya said dubiously.

"It's just a stopgap," Lisa soothed. "Just until the authorities can take back over."

Yeah, 'just' until City Hall starts caring about the Docks. Don't hold your breath. But while I wasn't really sure why Lisa wanted Tanya to go for this -- seemed likely to get her into more fights, which, let's be honest, would only end with more bodies -- I wouldn't get in her way. The others seemed to agree. Well, Brian did. Rachel wasn't keeping up, Alec didn't care, and Taylor wanted to believe.

"... Well, if we're actually doing this, we'll do it properly. No individual territories. Separating makes you easy pickings for any enemy with a speck of tactical sense. Bitch gives you decent mobility, but that doesn't help if she's on the other side of the city. The proper way to exploit a mobility edge is to form a rapid response unit, such that you have the advantage in concentration of force. We'll spread out the infantry to handle minor matters and to serve as a picket for more serious problems. How would you characterize the attacks you've fended off thus far?"

The... infantry? Coil's mercs?

Taylor took a few moments to formulate her response.

"The Chosen made one push, but it wasn't serious. Three dozen guys, no capes. I think they were a lot more focused on the Pure. I'm not sure the Merchants even realize I have a defined territory. They spill over Jefferson occasionally with no plan and always seem surprised when I attack them. But the vast majority of what I deal with is random violence among civilians, not organized attacks."

Tanya nodded.

"Once we condense down to your territory, we should have the manpower to manage unorganized crime. I'll deal with any capes that come, since I'm planning on dealing with them anyway. That leaves organized attacks without capes. Now, be honest with me: can you handle it? Safely? You have the right powers on paper, but you're not bullet proof. All it takes is one moment of stupidity."

Lisa bristled. Hard.

"We managed before you came along, you know," she snapped. "We beat the Empire back when it was the Empire. We ended the ABB. We humiliated the heroes in front of half the notables in the city. What call have we given you to say we're stupid?"

Tanya just stared at her, baffled.

"... OK... And you were part of all that? Fighting on the front lines with your 9mm and your power to know things?" Tanya finished with a hint of disbelief.

Lisa looked like she wanted to pull her hair out. Or maybe Tanya's.

"Yes!"

"... Then that doesn't really answer the question of how they'll manage without you, does it?"

Oh. Oh damn. Fuck, I wish I had a camera. Future generations deserve to see Lisa's expression in this moment.

"Wait," Brian objected. "You want us to work without Tattletale? No one said anything about that. Everyone on the team has a role. You can't just remove someone and expect it to still function."

Hmm, Brian, noticing any other holes in the team?

Tanya frowned, looking between Brian and Lisa.

"Well, that's why I'm asking now, obviously. Though I can't imagine why Lisa didn't tell you."

"Maybe it's because," Lisa started with a hiss, "you didn't tell me! she finished with a shout.

"... Yes I did." She turned to Weiss. "Major, you remember, right? When we planned our attack on the Nine?"

"Yes Ma'am," he nodded. "You pointed out Tattletale has no combat abilities and asked why we'd take her into a fight."

Lisa took a deep breath. And then a second.

"OK, fine, you did say that. About the Nine. And I agreed to avoid combat with the Nine. You certainly never said anything about benching me permanently!"

"Well, have you developed any new combat abilities in the last thirty hours?" Tanya asked dryly.

Lisa tried her hardest to blast Tanya with her laser eyes, but it turned out she still didn't have laser eyes. Tanya noticed and changed tack.

"I apologize if I was unclear," she said, placating, "but I don't understand why you're upset? I'm sure you were an important factor in your team's successes, but surely it's obvious that you'd be both much safer and more capable in the rear?" She shook her head. "How did you end up going out in costume? Even Coil must have realized that wasn't an efficient use of your abilities."

I watched Lisa struggle to respond to that for a few seconds. I couldn't help but feel bad for her. Sure, I could kinda see Tanya's point. When the team focused on stealth, heists, and hit-and-runs, Lisa must have been incredible. But that was before my time. These days it was fight after fight, and while she pulled her weight, that obviously wasn't what she was really good at.

But to just take that from her? Keep her cooped up and only wheel her out for meetings? Who would she even bitch at? It was inhumane.

"Coil offered me the option of spending the rest of my life in a small cell, sure," Lisa said stiffly. "I made a point of demonstrating my value in other ways. When I put the team together, I agreed to take on my share of the risk so they knew they could trust me."

"Ah. Skin in the game." Tanya nodded. "Sensible, in that context, but the context has changed." She looked us over. "What could I buy with your lives? Nothing I couldn't easily take myself. Your value to me is mainly convenience. Local knowledge and connections, delegating small tasks, the occasional situation to which your niche abilities are especially well suited. My word is worth vastly more than whatever I could gain by betraying you. Do any of you doubt that?"

"You're paying us a lot of money for convenience," Rachel said with a hint of suspicion.

"A lot for you, maybe," Tanya shrugged. "I don't expect to make a hundred million dollars every day but I still don't think I'm ever going to have to worry about your salary."

Rachel's eyes narrowed.

"Double it, then."

Tanya let out a bark of laughter and waved a hand.

"Fifty percent raises all around, to make up for the lack of jobs. And the jobs I do bring you on will pay a lot better. Skitter, you're due three million for the help with Siberian once the bounty money comes in."

Out of a sixty million bounty? Well, I guess she only really handled locating the Master. And she kind of fucked up with the decoys. And of course Taylor didn't actually care at all. Because she'd gotten repeatedly dropped on the head as a baby or something. Definitely not just fetal alcohol/narcotics/etc. syndrome, because I understood the value of money just fine. She'd probably have Lisa put it all towards road repair or something equally dumb.

Rachel backed down, presumably patting herself on the back for that masterful negotiation, completely unaware Tanya had obviously already planned to do that.

"Tats doesn't get a bonus?" Alec asked.

Tanya's brow furrowed briefly. She shook her head.

"No, that system is for the Undersiders. Tattletale is a full partner and gets paid in a quarterly draw in accordance with a vote of... Well, the specifics don't matter to you. Rest assured she'll be compensated."

Oh. She wasn't just keeping Lisa out of fights. She'd just... decided she wasn't on the team anymore. She wasn't thrilled about taking responsibility for us. Our powers weren't good enough to justify proper training. Hell, whatever she'd said about convenience, she was probably just keeping us around because Lisa asked her to. I'd thought I was pretty perceptive for picking up on that vibe before, but far from trying to hide it, Tanya considered it so obvious it wasn't worth mentioning. Even to Lisa, apparently.

"Any other concerns?" Tanya asked.

"I still haven't agreed to spend the rest of my life swaddled in bubble wrap," Lisa said frostily. She'd taken a moment to get a hold of herself, but she hadn't really gotten any less pissed.

Tanya inspected her for a second and I fully expected her to tell Lisa to suck it up. And she would have. Tanya was pushing too far, too fast but Lisa hadn't gotten any less scared of her. But by the end of that second, Tanya seemed to come to some realization. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

"Fine. If this matters so much to you, you may assist the Undersiders with whatever fights they get into." Her expression firmed and she met each of our eyes. Well, not mine, obviously. "You are not to get into any fights without an escort from one of the men. I'll instruct them not to interfere unless it looks like you're losing. Not that I expect that to come up after receiving such ardent assurances as to your competence. If it does, we'll have to... reevaluate."

She let us mull on that threat -- and it was definitely a threat -- for a few long seconds. Gotta say, Lisa wasn't looking particularly thrilled with her victory. Er, actually, don't most our fights look like losses at some point? If you can't see me and you can't see the ten types of bullshit Taylor's pulling simultaneously (but mostly me) you probably can't see how we'll win.

Tanya let the moment break abruptly, striding over to the crate with the normal rifles and... taking out another one?

"Well, I was planning to run you through the basics today anyway, but now I suppose a more thorough introduction is in order."

She threw the gun into Lisa's chest. Probably not as hard as she could have, but a lot harder than she should have been able to. She caught it, barely, and only just kept her feet.

"I understand you possess a cultural aversion to guns, that most of you have never even touched one before. I'll do you a favor and tell you the blunt truth: that's fucking stupid."

She grabbed another one and hurled it at Brian, who managed somewhat better.

"To neglect the best tools available for defending yourself in the midst of such chaos? If an Imperial officer responsible for managing occupied territory permitted anything like the level of lawlessness I've observed in this city, I'd expect to see him court martialed and demoted at best. If it were up to me, I'd have him shot."

Alec fumbled his. She waited impassively as he bent and picked it up.

"There's something profound in execution by firing squad. You have to watch one yourself to really understand. A dozen men with a dozen rifles, each composed of dozens of precisely made parts each produced in rigid accordance with detailed plans, all acting in perfect concert to destroy the man that has failed to perform his own function."

Rachel caught hers without too much trouble but she fidgeted with it afterwards, not quite sure how to hold-- I jumped at the sudden report, startling even through my earplugs. I looked back to Tanya, who was lowering her own rifle.

"Hear that? It's the voice of industrial society itself! Of well ordered and harmonious civilization! Of the triumph of ingenuity and rigor over foolish, lazy superstition!"

Taylor plucked her rifle from the air with such easy grace you'd think you were watching her throw it in reverse. Cheater. Even Tanya looked at little impressed.

"If there are as many versions of Earth as your world believes I'm sure there's a gentle one out there. One where reason guides all men into their best roles and humanity marches as one towards the betterment of all. And in that world I'd tell you about the genius of the railroad or the computer or some undreamt of technological marvel more wondrous yet. But that's not my world and it's not yours either. Here, all power grows out of the barrel of a gun. Mao Zedong said that and he was the greatest murderer in your history. Take his word on it, if nothing else."

... You know, I'd known Lisa was convinced Tanya was truly, dangerously unhinged. And, well, Tanya had said some things that'd made me wonder. But this? It was alien. Like she not only believed that the purpose of humanity was to assemble themselves into a great machine--

"Imp!" Lisa called in that tone that meant she was done with my shit. Which wasn't at all fair, because I'd only fucked with her a moderate amount today. But what... Oh, right, there were ten rifles for ten people and I didn't have one.

I pulled my power in. "Sorry!"

Tanya grabbed the last rifle, clearly annoyed. I'd, uh, messed up her speech, hadn't I? That little conclusion was supposed to come after everyone had their gun. She'd apparently timed the whole thing around that gimmick and I'd screwed up all her carefully planned melodrama. I braced like an irritated Brute was about to throw a solid hunk of metal at me and I was just going to stand here and take it for some reason, but she paused at the last second.

"Promise me you'll keep your power down until we're done today. I need to be able to perceive you to ensure you're behaving safely."

I hesitated.

"I can't." She frowned. "Literally can't."

"She literally can't," Lisa confirmed. "A few minutes, sure. Maybe as much as half an hour on a good day. And it's a strain to do for any length of time."

"Really?" Tanya lowered the rifle. "How are you to have any semblance of a normal life, then?"

I considered just letting go and leaving this pointless conversation... but Tanya would still be holding the extra rifle. Lisa would figure it out in an instant.

"Good fucking question," I said tiredly.

Tanya shook her head.

"Practice. It's your power, surely you can learn to control it."

"Don't you think I've tried that?" I demanded.

"And you've improved," Lisa said. "Some powers simply can't be controlled but yours is just hard." She shook her head. "It took me more than a month to learn to suppress my power enough to not get migraines every other day. And I was a lot more motivated than you."

"I was basically comatose for two weeks after I got mine," Taylor offered. "Completely overwhelmed by all their senses. Too overwhelmed to concentrate on shutting them out."

... Huh. Maybe I shouldn't have ducked out on every previous instance of this conversation.

"We'll put together a regime for you," Tanya said. "But that doesn't solve our problem today."

Brian cleared his throat.

"Even aside from the power issue, I'm not sure it's such a good idea to--"

Tanya quelled him with a look.

"There's a lot to be said for keeping children entirely away from weapons and war. And there's something to be said for sending them in anyway, if you're desperate enough. But sending someone into combat without the necessary tools? Rank cowardice."

And of course no one wanted to touch that, not coming from the literal child soldier. Even though we all knew I was only on the team because they literally couldn't keep me away.

Tanya threw me the rifle. Not that hard, really, but she caught me off guard. I only just managed to catch it. She looked at me levelly.

"I'm placing trust in you. Are you going to make me regret that?"

I swallowed and shook my head.

"--but the most important rule of gun safety is to shoot the other guy before he shoots you. Negligent discharges kill people, but the enemy kills a lot more. Don't be so afraid of your own weapon you hesitate to use it when it counts."

I somehow doubted that was part of the standard spiel, but OK.

The lecture had strained my attention span badly. She'd named all the different parts (I remembered some of them), showed us how to hold it (and how not to hold it), explained all the little levers (I focused on the fun ones, the ones you need to shoot and the one that makes it fall apart), and given us a whole list of things to never do (which I was in fact capable of taking seriously, despite everyone's doubts). But it was finally -- finally! -- time for the fun part. I shoved my power down in preparation, conspicuously following every single rule and suggestion.

"Traditionally, this is the point where I'd issue your magazines and you'd start practicing." Er, 'traditionally?' "But how realistic is that? Take it from me, you'll never go into a firefight so well rested and calm." She rose into the air, eyes and rifle glowing, big grin on her face. "Run!"

Lisa broke into a sprint immediately, rifle bouncing randomly on its loose sling. Taylor easily overtook her moments later because she was the kind of lunatic that runs by choice. Rachel and Brian followed at a relaxed jog that sped right up when an explosion sounded behind us. That even got Alec and me moving, though of course he ran forward while I ran sideways to where Granz and Koenig were enjoying the show, letting my power snap back into place.

They were chatting in German, of course, but pointing and laughing are universal. I joined right in.

In less than a minute she had everyone running for their lives among clouds of bugs and darkness, explosions and lasers constantly nipping at their heels. The others couldn't do anything but run. Bitch had -- probably wisely -- chosen not to subject the dogs to this and Regent had only tried once before Tanya demonstrated she didn't need control over her limbs to ram him into the ground.

She only kept it up for ten minutes or so. At that level of intensity, it really doesn't take long to-- Shit! I started frantically doing jumping jacks as Tanya gathered everyone up. I sprinted over and dove to put some grass stains on my costume then sprung to my feet and got back to jumping jacks. By the time I was forced to shove my power down, I was breathing almost as hard as Taylor. I, uh, was not quite as fit as Taylor. But Tanya didn't know that, right? I got a dirty look from Lisa as she panted and pushed back her sweat-plastered hair. But she wouldn't snitch, right?

Tanya gave me a searching stare as she handed me a magazine, but she moved on without comment. I released my power and breathed a sigh of relief, letting the tension drain away for a second before grabbing hold again. Just a momentary slip up.

I loaded the gun just the way you were supposed to and, er, racked the slide? No, pulled the charging handle. I even smacked it just like Iridescent had, which was important for the... chamber? I looked up from my rifle, a bit proud, and saw Brian staring at me. I gave him a challenging look and he shook his head, clumsily performing the same steps. Huh. Had he been checking that I did it right or had he just forgotten how to do it himself? Alec just asked for help, both shameless and annoyed at having to exercise.

And then it was finally actually the time for the fun part!

Ow.

Shooting, as it turned out, was almost as much fun as it looked... aside from the part where the rifle punched you in the shoulder every time you took a shot. Not a friendly punch, either. I'd actually hit one of the closer targets -- which was still not at all close -- on my fourth shot, but it had only gone downhill from there. By the twelfth the only thing really keeping me going was the thought of getting back to the part where I got to hit it.

Also, the gun was heavy. I mean, it objectively wasn't -- thirteen pounds, maybe -- but holding it up against your bruised shoulder, stretched out from your body, and perfectly steady while you aimed? It was heavy. And I'd skipped Tanya's little warm up. I let my power boil up, deciding to take a break and check how the others were doing. Lisa was actually a pretty good shot normally, but even she was struggling here. Alec clearly wanted his own break, but, without my advantages, he was reduced to dragging out the process of refilling his magazine from the ammo box. Brian and Rachel did a little better purely by virtue of muscle mass, but it was Taylor who'd earned Tanya's full attention.

"--keep a pair of bugs at the right angle for each target, then I just need to match that angle when I want to hit it."

She casually shot three targets at very different distances in a row, not even pretending to look down the sights.

"Clever," Tanya praised. "But that's only really going to work for fixed targets. You need to internalize the drop at different ranges. Try to organize your reference angles by distance and interpolate, bearing in mind the drop is superlinear-- Actually, let me show you what it should look like."

An actual graph -- like, from math class -- appeared in front of us.

"What? No, that's not what I'm seeing." Bugs flowed up into a second line on the graph, but the illusion flickered and faded immediately. "Oh, sorry."

Tanya waved it off.

"My chart was for drop, not angle, which is the standard. You can convert by placing a third bug in line with the first two at the horizontal range of--"

"Got it," Taylor interrupted, her line already changing to something closer to Tanya's.

"Good. Now, can you work backwards from the graph?"

"Uh..." She lifted her rifle and waited, eventually taking a single shot. "Not quickly, if the bugs aren't already there."

"Bear in mind you only need the angle. You can scale down the whole triangle--"

"Oh!" She shot several times as fast as she could maneuver the rifle and deal with the recoil. Same as before, except... Well, that had mostly gone over my head, but I thought-- Alec asked before I could.

"So you can just instantly shoot anything inside your range now?" he demanded. "Without looking? Through walls? Fucking hacks."

I started and looked around. Seemed like everyone had had the same thought as me, giving up on their own efforts and crowding around the two.

"I'd need to recreate the graph each--"

"Flypaper," Lisa interrupted.

"Draw it out," Brian responded. "Then place bugs on the line visually."

"You'll just get a sense for it with some practice," Tanya said. "Shouldn't be hard when you can feel the distance instead of having to judge visually." She frowned. "Be careful with walls, though. .308 will go through a lot of drywall and insulation, but a stud? Brick? Concrete? At a minimum it'd throw off your aim. And if you don't go through you have to worry about spalling and ricochets. And that's for ball ammo. You really want hollow points for soft targets, but it doesn't penetrate at all."

"... Hollow points?" Taylor asked, clearly overwhelmed.

"Bullets designed to expand inside the target, creating a much larger wound channel. Not that ball ammo won't kill, but it's less certain and takes longer."

We all stopped at that. Right. Taylor's incredible new skill was only actually good for killing people.

Tanya continued quickly, oblivious to our lost excitement.

"Don't worry too much about the specifics right now. With your range, we'll want to move you to something in 5.56, which naturally has different characteristics. Concentrate on getting a feel for the method. Try to improve your precision. Oh, and see if you can get a sense for how the wind between you and the target impacts the bullet path. It won't be much inside three hundred fifty meters for .308, but it's more important for lighter, slower rounds."

"Ah, I don't know how much shooting I have left in me today," Taylor demurred. "The rifle is kind of heavy."

Tanya nodded.

"Oh, of course, these rifles aren't remotely suitable for you. We'll--"

"Sorry, 'not suitable?'" Alec asked.

"They're backup mage rifles," Tanya said like he was slow. "Designed for Brutes. Far too heavy, too high power, and too expensive. Oh, and proper marksmanship is far easier with an optic."

That earned her more than a few glares.

"Sorry again," Alec said slowly. "Why are we using them, then?"

Tanya shrugged, perfectly immune to the hostility in the air.

"They're what we have on hand, and at your level the specifics don't really matter. These are just the basics. Oh, and training with a heavy rifle will help you build the right muscles." She frowned. "And even on the basics, you're all still atrocious. Ask Weiss for help and get back to it."

Lisa sighed and headed off. The others, left with no recourse, eventually followed. I stuck around, naturally.

Tanya immediately turned back to Taylor.

"Iridescent mentioned a P90? That's closer to what I have in mind for you and should be much easier shooting. Let's take a look."

She started off, but turned when Taylor didn't follow. She raised her eyebrows.

"Tanya, I... We can keep working on this if you'd like, but I don't want to shoot anyone."

"Of course," she nodded seriously. "But sometimes life demands we do things we'd rather not. I want you to be prepared, that's all."

"We're talking about shooting people, not going to the dentist," Taylor said in disbelief.

Tanya sighed.

"Imagine you're a conscript on that train to the Rhine. You've been issued a rifle and given some small training in its use. You're to reinforce an infantry company that recently had an unfortunate encounter with an artillery shell. But that's not necessarily bad news for you: the lieutenant survived, a grizzled veteran of three months on the Rhine. He knows what he's doing and so does his captain, so when he orders you forward, you know you'll at least have a chance to make it out so long as you do your job. And -- let's be very clear on this point -- your job is shooting Francois. No one from your school teacher to your priest to the Kaiser himself will tell you any different. What will you do when that order comes?"

Taylor stopped, really considering it.

"I don't know."

"Neither do I. I recommend you figure it out before the train arrives."

Taylor didn't have an answer for that and Tanya didn't expect one. They headed over to the 'extras' crate and I followed.

"No, I think that's supposed to be the foregrip," Tanya said. "You put your thumb through the trigger well and that bit keeps your hand away from the muzzle."

Unlike all the other guns, this one had taken Tanya a while to figure out. Well no shit, it looked like something out of Star Trek, not the trenches. Taylor had even helped a bit.

"Yeah, seems right," Taylor responded, trying out the grip Tanya indicated. She held it up to her shoulder and Tanya nodded. "We only got one of these? It does seem a lot handier than the rifle."

"It's not at all what I asked for," Tanya said wryly. "Submachine guns from my time look like scaled down rifles, not children's toys. And they fire pistol rounds, not tacks." She shook her head. "Maybe it'd work for Lisa. She seemed to really be struggling with the G3, despite being the most experienced shooter in your group."

"That's not saying all that much, but sure. She does seem to know what she's doing with her gun when it does come up, at least."

Tanya frowned.

"You know her pretty well, right? Has she been underselling her power's side effects? She said she was recovered this morning, but she's been a bit... erratic. And she was pretty blown after the warm up earlier."

Heh. She really was calling it a warm up.

Taylor snorted.

"That's not her power. She's just out of shape."

"But you fight for a living?" Tanya asked uncomprehendingly.

"I know. But try explaining that to her. Regent and Imp are even worse, by the way."

Really trying to make enemies today, huh, Taylor?

Tanya shook her head, disbelieving.

"I guess some people struggle with intrinsic motivation. Can't say I understand it, but I suppose I don't need to to substitute extrinsic motivation."

... How did she make random words sound so scary?

"As for the rest... Well, I don't know what she told you. It's bad, but once it's over, it's over." She shifted, hesitant. "I think it's more that you've been pushing her too hard."

Tanya blinked.

"What do you mean? I've hardly pushed her at all."

"... I think your standards there might be a little different from ours," Taylor said diplomatically. "Part of it is just that we're moving too fast for her power. You're making her choose between going into situations half cocked or getting Thinker headaches every couple of days instead of every couple of weeks, and she really doesn't like either option." Taylor shrugged. "But that's just the situation. She knows as well as you and me we have a unique opportunity to roll over the established players before they figure you out."

... Which you wanted to give up on like an hour and a half ago. Remember, it was when you were pissed at Lisa for lying? Well, that's Taylor I guess.

"If that's part of it, what's the rest?" Tanya asked.

"She doesn't appreciate insults to her intelligence. Really doesn't appreciate it. And not just direct insults either. Avoid trick questions, explaining things she already knows, and interrupting her."

Tanya's eyebrows rose.

"She does those things all the time."

"Oh, she absolutely does. It's not fair, but it's something you have to put up with if you want to be her friend."

"Well, I suppose no one likes having their competence questioned. Still, if that's what this is, her reactions seem a bit extreme."

Heh, she thought that was extreme? Even I know not to push that button.

Taylor hesitated as she tried to figure out how to explain that.

"Split infinitives send Accord into a homicidal rage," she shrugged. "It's a Thinker thing, I think."

Thinker? Wait, has no one actually explained to her yet that capes are all nuts? I mean, I can see why that conversation would be awkward -- especially since she'd probably come away from it with the very, very incorrect idea that she's less nuts -- but it's kind of critical info for understanding Bet.

It became clear Taylor was done speaking. So you're just not going to explain how Lisa's struggled and suffered, Atlas-like, holding back the whole weight of her bitchiness? How it's only her fear of Tanya that's keeping it from crashing down on all our heads? OK then.

Tanya nodded after a moment's thought.

"I'll keep that in mind. Ready to head back?"

"How about we take a look at the pistols first? It'll be easier to generalize with another example to work with."

Tanya nodded and moved back over to the crate.

"Sure, though bear in mind pistols aren't really practical weapons. You give up a lot for size, weight, and concealability. Even with your advantages, you could spend twenty times as long practicing with one and still be less effective than with..."

I sidled over to see what she was looking at. She'd opened an unmarked cardboard box and pulled out something that looked like a cross between a bullet and a drill bit.

"What's that?" Taylor asked curiously, coming over herself.

Tanya's hand closed around the object and the box disappeared into a pocket on her uniform. She grabbed the sword and presented it to Taylor.

"Bit much, isn't it? Not like I need the reach to cleave infantry from horseback. I can just fly lower if I need to. What's with cape culture's fetishization of obsolete weapons?"

Taylor hadn't actually missed the swap out -- that's not the sort of thing Taylor misses, not inside her range -- but after a quarter second pause she decided to play along.

"It's not just obsolete weapons. It's weapons so obsolete they've lost any association with war, so they can pick up new associations. Swords were outdated in your time, but it's been a whole century for us."

"Japanese officers were issued swords in World War Two less than seventy years ago," she reflexively corrected. On history she'd only had a few days to learn. In between figuring out the internet and looking up obscure quotes to work into her speeches. "But I take your point, I suppose. There's something to be said for the branding opportunities. But branding is only worthwhile if your product is good, and it probably won't be if you insist on using wildly inferior tools."

Taylor shrugged.

"It's how things are done. I don't fully understand why, but I do understand the consequences for not playing along."

"Hmm," Tanya frowned as she put away the sword. "I haven't gotten the impression people have gone especially easy on you as things stand."

"You might have a point there. But there's no saying how much worse things would have been if we hadn't followed convention. And we've always pulled through regardless."

Tanya turned back, expression dark. She thrust a holstered pistol at Taylor.

"You always pull through until you don't. If you're not going to take your survival seriously, stop wasting everyone's time."

Taylor wisely let that pass without comment, securing the holster to her belt. Tanya looked like she wanted to go on for a moment, but she just returned to the crate and grabbed her own pistol and several magazines. After explaining the gun's operation with even more terseness than usual, Taylor decided to try changing the subject.

"You were asking about efficient ways to help with reconstruction, right? And opportunities for good PR? I've got an idea."

"Oh?"

"Brockton Bay used to be a major port city but a cargo ship got sunk across the bay entrance during a protest a while back. Now the passage is too shallow for big ships. I guess it'd be too expensive to pay normals to clear it, but maybe you could--"

Tanya shook her head sharply.

"If it's big enough to block the entrance to the bay, it's far too big for us to deal with in any reasonable amount of time." She paused, expression softening a fraction. "It's not a terrible idea. Underwater construction -- and, I suppose, demolition -- is actually pretty well suited to the mage toolkit. No need for external oxygen or propulsion and we can turn any bar of steel into a thermal lance. Even without any experience, I'd bet we'd each be the equal of any twenty trained normals with all their equipment. Do you see the issue?"

"It'd take a lot more than eighty normals?" Taylor guessed.

"Well, a crew that size -- or us -- would get it done eventually. The issue is that an aerial mage platoon -- four mages -- is commonly held to be worth a whole company of infantry. That's two hundred forty men, with similar amounts of training and equipment to those underwater demolitionists. Frankly, I think that pre-war comparison understates the disparity. I certainly wouldn't trade one of my mage platoons for a single measly company."

"You're saying it's inefficient. You're better than normals at both fighting and underwater demolition, but you can only do one thing at a time and you can replace a lot more fighters."

"Very good." Tanya smiled, lips pressed. It was a little cold but it lacked any of the unhinged sadism she'd shown during the 'warm up.' Good trade. "The formal term is 'comparative advantage.' Even when one party is better at everything than the other, their opportunity costs keep pace. Mutually beneficial trade is always possible." Her smile faded. "Provided both parties are interested in mutual benefit, of course."

Tanya guided Taylor back to the range -- a ways to the side of the others, presumably still uninterested in coaching the rest of us through the basics -- but Taylor spoke up again before they could get back to shooting.

"Well, if not that, I can at least point you towards a good source of workers."

"Hmm?"

"The Dockworkers Association. They've had a lot of trouble finding work since jobs at the docks dried up, but they're reliable, hard workers."

"A union?" Tanya asked dubiously. "'Union' is just a euphemism for 'labor cartel.' They're inherently inefficient."

Taylor shrugged.

"If it wasn't the DAU it would be one of the gangs. They're organized, and you need to be too if you want to stand up to them."

Tanya grimaced.

"Historically, unions are much more likely to get into bed with organized crime than to stand up to it. What makes you think they're clean in this instance?"

"My dad is Spokesperson and Head of Hiring. An E88 thug broke his arm a few years ago because he refused to play ball."

"I see." Tanya paused, mulling it over. "Sorry if this is too personal, but... what are you doing here? I get the impression the others aren't exactly from functional families."

Taylor hesitated for a moment before the words came spilling out.

"Mine isn't, really. Functional, I mean. Don't get me wrong, the others have it worse and I love my dad, but he... hasn't really been present since Mom died. It's not as bad as it used to be, but he spends every moment he can at work and I can't rely on him when it counts."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Tanya murmured.

The words were pretty clearly pro forma but Taylor was determined to force a real connection.

"And I'm sorry for your loss, too."

Tanya spun on her, expression fixed.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked slowly and coldly.

Taylor froze in that creepy spider-like way she has.

"Lisa said you were an orphan," she carefully explained.

Tanya blinked and all the sudden tension drained away.

"Oh, that?" She waved it off. "There's really no need. I never knew them and the orphanage saw to my needs satisfactorily. And, well, I've always been rather independent. I don't think it would have worked out."

... And she meant every word. Fuck, that's brutal. She's tugging on my heartstrings with my family situation. Taylor obviously had no clue how to respond to that bombshell and she quickly got back to shooting.

Tanya finally called a halt forty minutes later. I'd even gone back to do some more shooting myself, out of boredom if nothing else, and Weiss had immediately come over to correct my form. Apparently the gun senses your fear if you don't hold it against your shoulder tightly enough and punches you even harder as punishment for your cowardice. It still wasn't pleasant and the gun was still way too heavy, but the bruising at least didn't get any worse. If only someone could have told me I was doing it wrong when I started instead of fawning over fucking Taylor.

We'd had a little picnic afterwards since the responsible half of the team had had the foresight to bring food -- knew there was a reason I kept them around -- and then Tanya had had the men practice healing on us. That did a lot to restore spirits, even though she declined to outright deny that practice was the main reason for roughing us up in the first place. I was sorely tempted to call bullshit on them just also being healers, but apparently it was hard and they weren't really good at it. Well, it was still bullshit, but I could let it slide so long as it was me they were healing.

And then? The thing that made everything else worthwhile: story time with Langer Max!

"--after extensive interrogation, they named a Colonel Girard. But he was stationed in an outpost sixty kilometers west, deep behind enemy lines. The only fresh tomatoes on the continent, so--"

"A word, Lieutenant?" Tanya called, returned from a walk with Weiss.

So much for that. He snapped to attention, illusory 'battle' map fading.

"Ma'am?"

"I wanted to discuss your proposal for taking down Siberian yesterday." He stiffened. "Well, I think I might have been too quick to admonish you," Tanya said contemplatively. Koenig didn't relax. "After all, maybe you would have been the best choice there. Maybe you've gotten better than me. Is that what you were thinking, Lieutenant?"

"No Ma'am!"

Tanya shook her head.

"Please, Lieutenant, don't be modest. I'm sure that's what you were thinking because why else would you suggest such a dumb ass plan? And what sort of commander would I be if I let my ego get in the way of my subordinates' development? Well, even if you're not comfortable discussing it, I think a practical assessment is in order."

"Ma'am, I think--"

He burst into three identical copies, all speeding off in different directions. Tanya instantly sprung at the left one and glowing bayonets met in a shower of sparks.

Not quite as good as story time, but there's something to be said for variety.

... Actually, wait, wasn't that reasoning bullshit? She'd just explained it herself. Just because she was better at each task than Koenig didn't mean she should do everything herself. He could still have comparative advantage. But, contrary to her earlier words, she seemed a lot less interested in talking than in beating the shit out of him. Go figure.

But after a few minutes of enjoying the show, I noticed Lisa and Taylor had both snuck off somewhere. I almost went looking immediately, but a thought struck me. They'd both earned some revenge, hadn't they?

"Hey guys," I announced, shoving my power down. "So, Tay and Lise, huh? They sure have been spending a lot of time together lately. In private."

Alec chuckled.

"And when they're not? Whispers and meaningful looks. Soulful, dare I say?"

"What do you mean?" Rachel scowled.

Oh well. Subtlety's not really my thing anyway.

"I mean they're fucking."

"Oh." She shrugged, completely uninterested.

"No they're not," Brian told her firmly. He turned to me. "What the hell, Aisha? You're really making up that sort of rumor about Taylor?"

Oh, uh... Shit. Didn't really think that one through.

"OK, they're not fucking. Sorry. But they are plotting behind our backs and I'm going to go spy on them."

"You..."

He trailed off as I let my power take hold.

"--not a direct translation. The Langer Max was a type of heavy German artillery. Very heavy. The kind you mount on a train, because you're not moving it any other way."

... Maybe they actually weren't plotting.

"OK?" Taylor asked.

"All I'm saying is you're not appreciating how big this gun is. It's just so big. And long. And thick. And--"

"OK, gross. You can stop," Taylor interrupted. "... Does Tanya realize--"

"Nope."

Wait, really? And I was already so on board.

"... Should we tell her?"

Lisa's smirk grew.

"Who's this 'we?'"

Taylor stared at her for a moment.

"Really, though, don't," Lisa said. "Their dynamic isn't all that fragile, but Tanya thinks it is. Stay away from the whole subject."

"... Is there a reason I had to know that, then?"

"You did want me to be more open with you."

Taylor let out a frustrated huff.

"You're going to have to try harder than that if you want me to retract that request. Much harder."

I saw the glint in Lisa's eye. Come on, Lise, do it!

But it faded and what she actually said was, "I know. I'm--"

"As hard as Big Gun's Big Gun?" I burst out, pushing my power down.

After the obligatory startle reactions, I got twin unamused stares. Well, I couldn't see Taylor's face, but it only actually moves like half the time anyway, so I was used to guessing. Not even a chuckle?

"Well, someone had to say it."

"And now someone has," Lisa replied dryly. She turned back to Taylor, not sparing me another glance. I released my power sullenly.

"I know. I'm not really trying to scare you off. The opposite, kind of. I just pick up so much garbage, completely useless stuff I really don't want to know. And I keep it all to myself because it can only cause trouble. But then I have to either try to ignore it or look insane when I do act on it. You see? It's just this constant burden. And I guess I'm shoveling it on you because I know it won't drive you away."

Taylor shook her head.

"You need a vacation."

"Convince Tanya to take one, not me." She let out a long sigh. "And, hell, who can say what will end up being useful here? Maybe this is the critical puzzle piece I'll need down the line."

"Hey, we're making progress. You said it yourself. And I think this outing has gone a lot better than either of us anticipated."

Oh? We're plotting after all? Please continue.

"Just because you didn't notice the near disasters doesn't mean they didn't happen," Lisa responded wryly. "But I guess she only seriously considered murdering Iridescent or Aisha a handful of times each."

Er, was this one of those times her power reminded her I was listening?

"That was the idea, right?" Taylor said. "Expose her to mild stressors in a controlled environment? You kept her from overreacting this time and she's not going to be as twitchy next time."

Huh. So Tanya doesn't like new people she can't kill or order around or surprises or situations she's not completely in control of or mad Tinkers or Koenig's sterling sense of humor, so you make her deal with all that and then reward her with guns and ice cream? Yeah, sounds like a Lisa plan.

"I guess, yeah." She sighed again. "It's just not good for my nerves. Want to fill me in on what you and her talked about earlier?"

Eh, once was enough for me. I wandered back to see how Max's 'practical assessment' was going.

"Tattletale, a word?"

Lisa stiffened. Nice touch, starting the same way she did with Koenig.

Lisa and Taylor made it back not too long after me, and just in time to witness the show's finale. Actually it'd been kind of pathetic, more Tanya getting tired of beating on someone who was barely able to fight back anymore than some final climactic struggle. She'd sent him to Weiss for more healing practice -- not that he was really injured or anything -- then strode over to us.

Lisa got up slowly and joined Tanya as she walked off. I followed, obviously.

They walked in silence for a while, Tanya content to wait until they were out of earshot of the others and Lisa wanting to delay as much as she could.

"I wanted to thank you," Tanya started, surprising us both, "for getting Koenig that ridiculous gun. I might never let him take it into combat -- how many capes can shrug off a normal artillery spell but not one five times the size? And even for an oaf like him, that much weight is death on acceleration -- but keeping him entertained is never easy."

Tanya shook her head.

"I worry about him. The others too, of course, but him most of all." She shot Lisa an unreadable look. "People respond differently to combat. Some can't handle it at all. They freeze up or break down right in the middle of the action. They don't last, obviously. More sensible people do what needs to be done and wash their hands of it as soon as they get a chance. But they're rarer than you might think. People like my men? Like Koenig? It... awakens something in them. Some primitive impulse buried in the hearts of civilized men that drives them to violence and destruction."

She paused significantly.

"Don't get me wrong, it's not all bad. Not in a soldier. It's insane, but war is insane. My men are the best there are and I'd be a fool to think that didn't factor in. And that impulse can be tamed, tempered with discipline. But extinguished? I don't know about that. What do you do with such men outside of war? How ya gonna keep 'em down on the farm after they've seen Paree?"

"... I think that song is about the draw of sophisticated urban culture, not killing."

Tanya rolled her eyes.

"Well, we've seen 'Paree' in a somewhat different context. The point is, battle junkies like them need to be carefully managed. I fear new toys and regular exercise will only go so far. Without real challenges they'll grow bored, and there's little more dangerous than a bored Wilibald Koenig."

Lisa's face contorted fantastically for a moment, but she got a hold of herself.

"That sounds tough," she said flatly. "It must be very frustrating. And stressful. And scary."

Tanya paused, a little taken aback.

"Well, I don't know if I'd go that far. But were you listening to that story he was telling? After the early days on the African front, after that single great offensive meant to push us into the sea foundered, there really wasn't much on the continent that could slow us down. The Francois kept their few remaining veterans well away from us and the Albish were a lot more focused on the attempted invasion of their homeland."

"All we had to contend with most days were a few mediocre European mages backed up by barely trained colonial conscripts. I lost a single mage on the whole campaign and that was just dumb luck. Of course, you can't conquer a continent with a single mage battalion, however unstoppable. And the whole force was outrageously outnumbered and severely under-supplied, so we always had plenty to do. Still, it was a great opportunity to take things easy. One we sorely needed, after the Rhine."

She paused again and Lisa spoke up, annoyed.

"... But instead you waged a bloody campaign over pasta ingredients. I get it."

"Instead?" Tanya shook her head. "That was taking things easy for them." Lisa looked unimpressed and Tanya sighed. "All I'm saying is you can fight alongside the Undersiders if you want, but please be aware--"

"Wait! We're talking about me?"

Fuck, this was somehow even better than the last one! I could practically see Tanya decide Lisa must be a bit slow.

"... If--"

"OK, fine," Lisa said, shock drained into resignation. "I'll try to... reign in my bloodlust before it becomes a problem. Was that all?"

Tanya frowned but ultimately decided to let her lack of enthusiasm go.

"Not quite." She pulled out the weird bullet drill thing. "You commissioned these?"

Lisa nodded.

"Yeah, they're meant to--"

"I know. They won't work, fortunately. The shell is a fantastically complicated spell, even if you strip out everything that isn't necessary to create a mage blade. There's no way you're fitting all that into a bullet. Not even one of those anti-materiel rounds. But would you care to explain why you thought I'd want something like this to exist?"

Lisa stared at her for a moment, confused. Then she seemed to figure something out.

"Oh." Tanya gestured for her to continue. "It'd make it easier for you to kill mages, but it'd also make it easier for them to kill you. And it's simple enough they'd copy it instantly if it worked. Making mages easier to kill in general is bad for you on net, because you've done well under the current regime."

"Good," Tanya nodded. "Specifically, it would drastically lower the skill ceiling. We might still be better than any given rookie, but there's a hell of a lot more of them than us and with this they'd all pose a genuine threat. Scoring kills would get a bit easier for us, too, but we manage just fine regardless. It's not even close to a worthwhile trade."

I could see Tanya wanted to say more, but she restrained herself.

"And the improved rifles?" Lisa asked. "No, wait, I've got it. You think they raise the skill ceiling by making... casting speed more of a factor?"

She nodded again.

"Well they make some things easier, but on balance I do think fully exploiting them is more difficult. But there's a bit more to it?"

"... There's no avoiding the proliferation of modern rifles if our worlds make prolonged contact. The drill bullets wouldn't exist if I hadn't had them made, but the rifles already do."

"Excellent," Tanya smiled and... did Lisa perk up a bit? Because she'd received praise from the deranged child? She noticed herself after a moment and shuddered.

Tanya let that pass without comment.

"Now, there's..." Tanya stopped, confused. She shook her head after a moment. "Was there anything you wanted to discuss?"

"There is something, actually," Lisa said after her own moment of confusion. "What's our actual plan? You're acting like this bounty money is capital, but you hardly need a hundred million in capital if you just want to do more bounty hunting. Not even if you wanted to deck everyone in Tinker tech, and you'd have brought that up with Iridescent if you did."

Tanya hummed contemplatively.

"Why don't you tell me?"

Lisa sighed, rubbing her temples.

"Tanya, guessing things you already know is not an efficient use of my power. I really don't have much to spare for games."

"Don't use your power, then." Tanya shrugged. "If it's limited then you can only benefit from pulling more of the weight yourself. I get the sense you already do a lot of that, but more is always better."

Lisa had looked pretty pissed by the end of the second sentence but the third appeased her. Wait, was Tanya taking Taylor's advice for dealing with her? She actually was, wasn't she? She was expanding on it, even, giving Lisa opportunities to feel smart. So long as she did what Tanya wanted, anyway. That's just too good!

They had to wait for my laughter to subside, but then they continued without noticing the interruption.

"You're right about that," Lisa said. "If I let it answer every question, I'd be out two minutes after waking up. If I want to maximize my effectiveness I have to do as much work as I possibly can myself and just use it for the occasional confirmation or new direction." She took a breath and admitted, "But you should know I can't turn it off, not completely. There's a constant drip feed, even if it's mostly garbage without careful direction."

"That's fine," Tanya responded. "I'm interested in expanding your capabilities, not punishing you for cheating. Whatever your baseline is, that's what I'm looking for."

"OK, then," Lisa scowled contemplatively.

"Feel free to think out loud."

... Which would give her a major advantage, suppressing her power or not. As much as Lisa had been trying to control Tanya through positive reinforcement, Tanya was doing it right back.

"Traditionally," Lisa started, "the point of holding a city as a villain is to exploit a few big opportunities. Drugs, extortion, gambling, and prostitution, mainly. There's a bit of money in gunrunning and counterfeit smuggling, too, but Brockton Bay isn't the port it used to be."

"Not theft?" Tanya questioned. "That was your old line, right?"

"We never held territory. Well, not until very recently. Theft is just inefficient extortion, since there's only so much value you can extract from a community before you degrade its long term output."

"The Laffer Curve," Tanya offered approvingly.

"Actually, I'm not certain the Undersiders were ever profitable," Lisa continued. "We were definitely paid too much for the jobs we did, so it's a question of whether the info Coil got from the ones he erased made up the difference. It's a bit academic, though. Coil kept us around for power projection, not profit."

Tanya nodded. "I see. And do you think any of that is what I have in mind?"

"Definitely not. Well, maybe gunrunning appeals to your principles, but the Brockton market just isn't big enough to justify that kind of investment. And I think you're more interested in stabilizing here than in aggressively expanding."

Tanya nodded again. "I'm not opposed to arming the populace, at least so long as the authorities won't fulfill their side of the social contract, but getting involved personally isn't worthwhile."

Lisa frowned.

"I suppose you might want to run a legitimate security company. You could expand on Coil's mercenaries to pretty easily put together the best unpowered force in the city -- at least so long as the PRT continues to limit themselves to non-lethal weapons -- and you're mobile enough to respond to any cape attacks yourself. But then you would have jumped on the opportunity to defend Taylor's territory instead of trying to get out of it."

"Hmm."

"OK, not that... Training? For capes and normals? But I don't see how that comes to a hundred million investment. And it definitely wouldn't be as profitable as bounty hunting, anyway."

Tanya grimaced.

"There's a limited amount of money we can feasibly extract from the bounty system. I honestly have no clue why the Nine were so overrated, because for the next hundred million we'd need to take out most of the Fallen -- which would be fine if not for the Mathers Clan -- or Ash Beast, the Blasphemies, or Sleeper -- none of whom I have reason to believe we can damage. Nilbog is only thirty five million and I doubt they'll be interested in paying up if we can't handle his countermeasures. Heartbreaker is only six million, hardly worth the amount of time it would take to track him down even if there were no risk." She shook her head. "We'll probably do some smaller bounties on the side for supplemental income, but it's not going to be the main focus."

Lisa shrugged.

"You could get a hell of a lot more out if you were willing to take less legal bounties. I'm sure Accord would pay you a million or more a piece for Blastgerm and the Teeth, just to get them out of his hair. Killing random villains still isn't a good idea, mind, but contract killers definitely aren't as worrying to the authorities as people who commit mass murder for unclear personal reasons. At least so long as you keep it to villains they secretly want dead anyway and avoid any civilian casualties."

"I've had ideas along those lines, but only the government can really fix the issues with the bounty system. Personally negotiating hits runs into the same problems as mercenary work. We could maybe set up an alternative system just for us with a charge-on-completion policy -- that'd get around the predictability and liquidity issues -- but we'd probably have to make examples out of a lot of people who decide they don't need to pay once the deed is done." She shrugged. "Too much bother for a sideline, I suspect, even putting aside the PRT's reaction."

She wanted to set up... Assassination Kickstarter? Lisa sure looked like she was regretting letting her on the internet now.

"... Unless I'm missing something that just leaves magic, then. Which we're not sure actually exists on this world. And if you were serious about that, why did you decide against dealing with the other mages? And where would we find the expertise to really exploit it, since even you don't know that much and all the magical scientists are locked away on your world?"

Tanya smiled.

"That is what's left, I think. And those are good questions. There's not much we can do to move on this until we get the bounty money, so I'll give you a couple days to think about it. Though, ah, I'll correct you on one point."

She waved a hand and an illusory white sphere appeared.

"Shoot it."

Lisa had her pistol up by the second 'o' and she was firing before Tanya finished. (I could still clearly hear her through the gunfire, though. Somehow. Did they really throw in Tinker tech earplugs?) The illusion remained stubbornly in place, to Lisa's visible confusion.

"Now wave your hand through it."

She did and it flickered and faded like normal. Lisa bit her lip.

"... It's not objects passing through that disrupt illusions. It's magic."

"Correct." Tanya gave her an approving nod. "Every person -- and only people -- possess some magic. For the vast bulk of humanity it's completely useless, barely even detectable. But every last person on my world has enough to disrupt an illusion and so far that seems to be the case here too."

"... Which means there might be potential mages here. But still, that's far from guaranteed. Maybe the distribution is just much flatter and no one has enough magic to be worth talking about. We already know powers break the rules for magic just like they do for normal physics, so maybe even people with enough magic can't use it. And those possibilities seem pretty damn likely, since if magic existed here we really should have figured it out by now."

"I'll leave you to consider that, then. Only, there was..."

I stepped on a twig.

"Oh," Lisa realized. "You wanted to talk about Imp."

Oops. She didn't actually realize I was here, but it seemed like something (heh) twigged her power.

Tanya's confusion melted into distaste.

"Yes, I did. She invited herself to the initial meetup with Toybox, I'm certain she skipped the warm up, and, given the brass pile she left, she hardly practiced shooting at all. And those latter two after I specifically extended her trust. I think disciplinary--"

"She has brain damage!" Lisa blurted, rapidly paling. "Attention problems and impulse control issues! Her mother's a druggie and she didn't even slow down while she was pregnant with her!"

I blinked. What the fuck, Lisa? Seriously, what the fuck? Even Tanya was taken aback. I started towards her.

"Lisa! That's an extremely inappropriate thing to tell me as her employer."

Lisa blinked.

"Um, OK. But please, Tanya, please understand that she's trying. She really doesn't mean to defy you. Look, I'll talk to her, OK? She'll give you no more problems."

I stopped. Oh. I felt a chill go down my spine. Lisa -- proud, aloof, spiteful Lisa, to whom I was just Brian's annoying kid sister -- was begging for my life. Even if she did know I was here, I was certain she wasn't just fucking with me. She was too scared of Tanya to play stupid games with her and she was too conceited to go that far for manipulation, anyway. I... maybe hadn't taken her warnings about Tanya seriously enough.

Tanya still looked completely bewildered.

"I'll... leave that to you, then." She paused. "Don't go too hard on her. She's just a kid. A disabled one, apparently."

... Or maybe Lisa was taking them too seriously. And I'm pretty damn sure I'm older than Tanya, but whatever.

Tanya returned to the group while Lisa just plopped down in the grass, defeated. I started to leave her to it, but she called out.

"Aisha? Can we talk?"

Huh, she knew after all. I sat across from her and suppressed my power. She still jumped.

"How'd--"

"I guessed," she snapped. "I thought 'What's the absolute worst place Aisha could be right now?' and that's turning out to be a better and better rule of thumb." She crumpled, fragile anger shattering. "Look, I have literally no power left for this conversation, so please don't fuck with me?"

I hesitantly nodded.

"You're probably thinking I'm just crazy now, right? Tanya never planned on killing you for your stupid fucking stunts and I'm just a paranoid fool?"

Well... she said it. I shook my head anyway, not that she believed me. She grabbed my shoulders with sudden strength.

"You think she hasn't executed people for insubordination? For a tenth the shit you've pulled today? If she hasn't, it's just because none of them were dumb enough to test her! And sure, you got off this time. Even though she hates your power, the way you make her feel vulnerable just by existing. Even though you've made it more than obvious you're not to be trusted. Even though a paranoiac like her definitely should have suspected you've been doing a lot more spying than she'd noticed. This time she decided on the businesswoman mask and not the commander one. Do you want to know why?"

I nodded slowly.

"So do I!" she screamed into my face.

She stared at me for a couple seconds, breathing heavily.

"... OK, I get it. I'll--"

"Avoid her," Lisa demanded. "I'll do my best to keep her from including you in anything. Just stay away and find your amusements elsewhere. Please."

I took a moment to really look at her, at the runny makeup, the bags under her eyes, the total disarray of her hair. She looked on the edge of tears. My resolve firmed.

"I'll help," I finished.

She looked stricken.

"Oh, that's alright, I'm sure..."

My power snapped back. Letting her think about it definitely wasn't helping.

438

TorontoTowers

Jul 7, 2023

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